


Dog Days

by stickylips14



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, AU - alien invasion, Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blowjobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Let Keith Rest, M/M, Minor Hunk/Lance (Voltron), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychic Bond, Recreational Drug Use, SHEITH - Freeform, Smoking, Supernatural Elements, Vomiting, blade of marmora, bottom!Keith, handjobs, if u squint there's some one-sided Allura/Shiro, just lots of blood my dudes, mild depictions of violence, the BOM suit makes an appearance, top!Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickylips14/pseuds/stickylips14
Summary: Dog Days:The hottest period of the yearA period of inactivity or decline--A twenty year war is a war that feels like it will never end.In the sleepy desert town of Heiress, war-orphan Keith Kogane wants something different for himself rather than being a second generation soldier for earth. The decision to get out gets him more tangled up than ever before, and putting a rift between his friends and on-again off-again boyfriend become the least of his problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a no-good fandom hopper I swear.  
> My first Voltron fic, and it.... might be a long one. I went without a computer for a couple weeks so I hand wrote a lot of this. I filled three journals. Finally, I can type it up!  
> 

Dog Days:

 

  * _The hottest period of the year_


  * _A period of inactivity or decline_



 

 The Galra had arrived on Earth thirty years ago. The whole world had watched the first contact, their leaders trying to teach aliens what a handshake was.

Some people were scared. Some people thought they were holy. Some people even thought the tall, humanoid creatures were _cute_.

Everyone was curious.

 The Galra had told the world that they were galactic explorers, searching the universe for new life forms, eager to pass on their knowledge. They came in peace. They wanted to help us jumpstart our civilization into the future. We believed them, and over ten years, the Galra became more and more integrated into society. They became teachers, doctors. Their children attended school with human children. The world trusted them.

 And then the ships appeared in the sky, and the war began.

 

********

 

The dry heat was stifling, the truck’s A/C working overtime to combat it barely making a difference. It was the equivalent of having someone gently blow on your face. Shiro’s leg was bouncing non-stop, his forehead pressed to the window as he watched the quiet streets of Heiress roll past. It was way too hot for the town’s some-two thousand residents to be doing anything other than sitting directly in front of a fan in the privacy of their own homes.

 Heiress was a militant town which had sprung up roughly twenty years ago around the Garrison facility out in the middle of the California desert. From the main strip of the town, you could see the looming buildings of the facility, wavering in the heat.

 Shiro hadn’t been born here, but he had gone to the high school here before enlisting in the Garrison program, and now he was back after only a year on duty.

 The truck rolled out of Heiress without ceremony, Shiro’s view turning into the endless desert and baked rock, sparse shrubbery. No forms of life in sight until they drove through the Garrison’s front gate, but even the grounds weren’t exactly humming with activity; it was summer break for a few more days, only the cadets whose homes were far away from Heiress were around, and the necessary staff members to keep the place ticking over. It wasn’t just a training facility. Research happened here, and a ways away from the main complex was a detention centre.

 Shiro was let out of the truck near the entrance of the main building, swinging the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder and wiping the back of his hand across his brow. He was being met by Commander Iverson, director of training, in person.

“Shirogane- welcome back.” The formality of saluting was foregone for a handshake instead, and then commander used a swipe card to open the door and lead them into the blessed industry standard air conditioning, the temperature nearly arctic in comparison. “How was the flight in?”

 Shiro made a face, mostly at the back of the commander’s head as he recalled the flight from Los Angeles into Heiress’ tiny airport.

 “Well, you would think after space travel, an aeroplane wouldn’t bother me much, but those pencil planes just don’t seem sturdy enough.”

 The commander barked a laugh at that, and they both stepped into an elevator that smoothly glided upwards. Shiro tightened his grip on the strap of his duffel bag and stared at the brushed steel doors until the elevator stopped and opened out into the wide hallway decorated in varying shades of grey and the occasional hard looking bench. He was led into the commander’s office which was just as sterile, save for a few photo frames on his desk and a small collection of books wedged between the binders of official Garrison business.

 In the seat across from the commander's desk, an Altean sat patiently. The Altean were another alien race- humans had found them out among the stars, small in numbers, made refugees by the Galra. Trusting them had not come easily, but the humans were getting there for the most part. The cities where it was unsafe for them to be out in public were now few and far between.

The Altean got to her feet when the door _whooshed_ shut behind the men.

 She was a beautiful woman even when she was wearing the stiff Garrison uniform. Her long, curling hair was silver, in high contrast to her dark skin and the telltale markings under her eyes.

 The commander sat behind his desk, and the Altean firmly shook Shiro’s hand as she was introduced as Allura, a member of the Garrison’s human resources branch. If the commander noticed the irony, he didn’t show it. Allura did, throwing Shiro a knowing, cheeky smile as they both settled into their seats.

“Allura will be helping you complete your transfer to this facility, as well as helping you become reacquainted with the building. You’ll be in good hands.”

There wasn’t much else to say after that, the commander having always been a man of few concise words that saw Shiro swiftly dismissed.

 

Allura gave Shiro a vague but cheery tour of the building he still remembered perfectly, and then they settled into the paperwork over cups of cafeteria coffee. Once Shiro had read and signed every appropriate paper, Allura showed him to his modest room in the staff quarters.

 “It’s not much, but at least the beds are comfortable, and you don’t have to share.” Allura smiled from the doorway as Shiro set his bag down on the bed, glancing around at the bare walls.

 “It’s nicer than most places I’ve slept lately.” He said in passing, peeking into the small ensuite to satisfy his curiosity.

 “Linen and towels are in the closet.”

 “Thank you.”

 “So shower and dress nice, we’ll get out of here in an hour.” Allura smiled brightly in the face of Shiro’s confusion, waving a dismissive hand before he could ask. “It’s Friday night, we’re not spending it here. Just meet me in the garage in an hour. Trust me!”

 

********

 

Shiro did as he was told, admittedly feeling much better after a shower and a change of clothes less sweaty than what he had arrived in. Killing time until an hour passed, Shiro made his bed with the military efficiency that had been seared into his brain over the past five years. When that didn’t kill enough time, he unpacked his scant personal belongings, sorting his clothes out into the closet, beside the Garrison uniform that already been waiting for him.

He arrived at the garage ten minutes early, passing the official Garrison vehicles through to the staff and student parking lot, which was mostly empty, making Allura in her soft pastel clothes and her truly vintage, dark blue jeep hard to miss. She waved him over enthusiastically, pulling the driver side door open and climbing in. “Ready to go?”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Shiro asked, climbing into the passenger seat despite himself. Allura made no move to help, not leaning over him to close the door for him, which Shiro was grateful for. Allura didn’t reply immediately, turning on the jeep’s grunty engine and cranking the gear stick- Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a manual car.

In a museum, maybe?

Allura didn’t speak until they were off Garrison grounds.

“The cadets throw a party at the end of Summer. You did too, right? Well, it’s important to get to know who you’re gonna be around for the next few years!”

“But-- isn’t it a little inappropriate for staff and students to socialize?”

Allura scoffed, rolling her eyes at Shiro. “You grew up with most of these kids. They’re not even kids! Relax- we’re all a big family around here. They’re still gonna listen to you in class.”

Shiro shifted in this seat. Allura slipped on a pair of sunglasses equally as vintage as her jeep and spoke a little more softly. “If it gets to be too much for you, we’ll leave, okay?”

 

By the time Allura was pulling up outside of a modest, Ranch-style house, Shiro had warmed to the idea of attending a party. He would at least know the graduate year students- they had started just as he had begun preparation for deployment.

There would be faces he knew and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to relax and talk to someone that wasn’t ranks above him or medical staff.

They ambled up the full driveway, towards a covered porch where a cluster of kids were smoking, the combined scent of nicotine and pot a unique one that immediately threw Shiro back to his years as a cadet and a high school student before that.

The front door was propped open with a flower pot, whatever had been growing in it left to wither and brown in the intense summer heat. From the lawn, Shiro could hear the pulsing synth music and the chatter and shouts of the people inside. A jolt of nervous energy ran through Shiro before he went inside, but he set his jaw and clenched his fist, stepping over the threshold.

People recognized him immediately. Allura stood triumphantly beside him as heads turned and faces lit up. Someone pushed a drink into his hand while another clapped him on the shoulder like an old friend, and from there Shiro found himself being drawn into the crush of cadets dancing, talking, playing beer pong along the length of a beat up wooden table. Shiro didn’t talk so much as be talked _at_ , cadets excitedly chattering about what they knew about him and his war stories, bursting with pride that an Heiress boy had done so much for Earth. When his cup was emptied another one replaced it, and then another after that until Shiro was starting to feel the fuzzy effects of alcohol in his blood. He relaxed, and found himself able to start engaging properly with the people around him.

Wherever he wound up though, Allura was always within arm’s reach, keeping up her own conversations but also keeping a watchful eye on Shiro. When the constant talk started to get too much for Shiro, his replies coming out stilted or too harsh, Allura took him by the arm and led him down a hallway, past a staircase.

“Come on, come meet the calmer gang. I think you’ll like them.”

Shiro let himself be led towards the back of the house, the pulsing synth music melting into the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar and a strange, bluesy voice that sent a shiver of anticipation through Shiro. It sounded like a sad song until Shiro was close enough to hear the lyrics.

He stopped Allura in the doorway, gesturing for them to hold back. He knew the ‘calmer gang’. They were his friends.

They were inhabiting a small sitting room, the four of them spread out across two couches. Hunk was sitting with his strong arms spread out along the back of the couch, an empty beer bottle trapped between the couch arm and his thigh. Pidge lay on her back, pale legs stretched out in Hunk’s lap, her arms folded behind her head and rimless glasses sliding down her nose as they hummed along to the music which was coming from the duo on the other couch.

Lance was strumming lazily at a guitar plastered in stickers, eyes closed, his feet kicked up onto the coffee table littered with beer bottles and cigarette burns. The bluesy singing was coming from Keith, who was lying on his back, heavy black boots hanging over the arm of the couch. When he lazily turned his head and settled his glassy eyes on Shiro, crooning smooth and smug, Shiro thought for a moment that he wouldn’t be able to recapture his breath. Keith’s gaze sharpened.

  _“Yeah my boyfriend’s pretty cool,_

_But he’s not as cool as me-”_

 He looked back up at the ceiling as he went into the next line about Brooklyn, and Allura waited for the song to softly wind down before stepping into the room and making their presence known, right as Lance was shoving his hand in Keith’s hair and giving him shit for never having stepped foot in Brooklyn, and then they all heard Shiro’s name and four people had never made so much noise before, finding their feet under themselves to catch Shiro in a full on group hug, squeezing everyone so close together there were yelps and complaints of elbows in faces and the suffocating heat of five people meddled into one on a summer night. Regardless, it was a long time before they peeled off of each other, Lance bouncing on the balls of his feet as he insisted Shiro sit, _sit!_

Shiro wound up between Pidge and Hunk, while Lance took up most of the other couch with his wide, loud gesticulation as he filled Shiro in on the past year he’d been away for with more enthusiasm than the stories really warranted. Keith sat on the opposite end of the couch from Lance, his feet tucked under himself and he was the one to light a joint, taking a hit before slipping it between Lance’s lips to get him to shut up a moment. Shiro watched the exchange closely, but didn’t say anything besides ‘thanks’ when the joint got passed around to him.

At some point, Allura had deemed the cadets appropriate company for Shiro and had slipped out of the room. Conversation gradually turned slow and pleasant, Shiro slumping down into the couch cushions while Pidge leaned her head against his shoulder. It was a solid high that they were all appreciating, slipping into old habits as if Shiro had never gone anywhere at all, which was exactly what he needed.

An hour slid by, the sun slinking away under the horizon line and taking it’s sweltering heat with it. Lance was plucking away at his guitar again, and Keith sang another song, his eyes trained on Shiro the entire time. Once the song wound down, Keith excused himself, plucking a beer bottle off the coffee table, tucking it into his back pocket as he went.

Shiro managed to catch up as Keith was climbing the stairs, not looking back as he slipped into one of the two rooms on the second floor. Shiro heard the grating sound of a window opening, standing in the doorway to watch Keith straddle the windowsill and light a cigarette between his lips.

“Careful. Don’t wanna smoke yourself out, Keith.” Keith lifted his eyebrows slightly, twisting his mouth to one side so that the breeze caught the smoke he exhaled. Shiro leaned against the door-frame, his hand on his hip. The silence hung between them, Keith’s lips quirking into a smile around his smoke.

“Got something you wanna say?” Shiro pushed away from the doorway slowly, closing the door behind himself before ambling across the carpet. It was a bedroom, probably a guest room from how tidy and impersonal it was.

“You and Lance seemed cozy.”

Keith snorted, ashing his cigarette out the window. “You’re kidding, right?”

Shiro sat on the windowsill beside Keith, who spread his legs to accommodate him. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not if he and I were the last two people on Earth, man.”

“Well, you two wouldn’t be able to repopulate Earth, anyway.”

“Shut up.” Keith laughed, reaching down to grab the beer bottle near his feet. He opened it with the keys he dug out of his flannel pocket before passing it onto Shiro, who tipped it slightly in thanks before taking a sip. There was another pause, Keith’s gaze having turned up towards the sky as he drew one knee up to his chest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Yeah,” Shiro rubbed at the back of his neck, scratching his nails through his undercut. “Allura kind of sprung it on me.”

Keith’s eyebrows twitched up, and he nodded slightly. “Yeah, she does that. She’s cool though.”

“High praise, coming from you.” Keith rolled his eyes, but he was smiling around the filter of his cigarette.

“How long are you back in town for?”

“Indefinitely.” Shiro took a pull on his beer, watching Keith’s expressive face process that. “They want me to tutor at the Garrison.”

Keith took another drag, exhaling through his nose as he smirked, waggling his eyebrows in a hilarious and suggestive gesture. Shiro couldn’t help but think that it was something Keith never would have done when they first met. “Gonna be my hot teacher?”

Shiro laughed, taking Keith’s cigarette to steal the last drag before grinding it out on the windowsill and flicking it out into the dark. “Teaching first years. Battle tactics.”

Keith hummed quietly, resting his chin on his bent knee. “You’ll be good at it.”

“I hope so.”

 

In the following silence, Shiro quietly observed Keith and the changes a year had made to him. When they had first met Keith was a soleum eighteen year old. When Shiro had been deployed, Keith was twenty-one and less serious, falling into friendships and finding that they suited him. Now he was staring down the barrel of twenty-two and he looked more like an adult than Shiro could have previously imagined. His face had lost all of it’s soft curves in exchange for angles; high cheekbones and a wicked mouth, his nose straight and thin. In a flannel a size too big for him, Shiro could still tell that awkward lanky limbs were now firm with muscles, Keith was in command of his body with surety.

“You look different.”

Keith blinked widely, roused out of thought. He considered Shiro for a moment, tilting his head so his cheek rested in his knee rather than his chin. “So do you.” He replied, tracing a finger over his nose in the same pattern as the one across Shiro’s. “The hair is an interesting choice.”

It was the first time all night that someone had mentioned his appearance. All night, people had pretended that he wasn’t missing an arm or that he had scars now that weren’t there a year ago. He let out a breath through his nose. Keith had always been blunt, never pandering to anyone. It was just as refreshing now as it had been before.

“Turns out your hair really can turn white from shock.”

Keith paused for a moment, assessing the situation before he reached for the cigarette tucked behind his ear, letting it rest loosely between his lips.

“Looks good.” He let Shiro take the lighter from his hand, leaning forward to catch the tip of his cigarette in the flame only to have Shiro pull it away at the last second. Keith grumbled, dropping his leg back over the windowsill so he could lean further forward, well into Shiro’s personal space. He was allowed to light up this time. Shiro pocketed the lighter, catching Keith before he would pull away for the sheer pleasure of running his hand through Keith’s dark hair, gently pulling out the elastic that caught it in a short ponytail. He shook it out, then let Keith slowly withdraw.

They watched each other as Keith took slow pulls on his cigarette and Shiro gradually finished his beer. Keith threw away his cigarette before it burnt to the filter. “Gonna come over here any time soon?”

Shiro looked thoughtful for a moment, mulling over the idea as he set his empty beer bottle on the floor. “Mm… No.” And then he leaned forward to catch Keith around the waist and haul him along the windowsill, which made Keith laugh. Keith lifted his leg to comfortably rest it over Shiro’s thigh, his chin on Shiro’s shoulder so that they were forehead to forehead.

“Hi.” Shiro said, his smile crooked.

“Hi.” Keith let out a breathy laugh, glancing from Shiro’s eyes to his mouth and back again. “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” Shiro said after some consideration. “Wasn’t sure about this party, but then I met this cute guy. Well, re-met him.”

“Do you think he’ll fall for your usual lines?” Keith murmured, looping his arms around Shiro’s neck so he could take his weight. Shiro’s hand rested on the small of his back, warm and firm through his shirt.

“He’s never been able to resist my charms before.”

“What charms?” Keith deadpanned, trying not to yelp when Shiro pinched his side.

“Brat.” Shiro said, laughing at the way Keith pulled back so that he got the full effect when he poked his tongue out at him. Shiro pulled him back in, kissing his forehead and mumbling, “I hope he still likes me. I’ve been gone a while.”

“I think he’ll understand,” Keith replied just as quietly, at this pitch his voice was raspy from smoke. “I understand.”

 

An easy silence passed, Keith’s forehead resting on Shiro’s shoulder, one hand scratching through his undercut lightly, while Shiro traced his spine in short strokes. Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way, still high but mostly just comfortable. Time didn’t matter all that much. At some point, Shiro started nudging his nose into Keith’s hair, nuzzling until he had his attention enough that Keith looked up, already anticipating the kiss Shiro lay on him, his lips warm and soft and only a little chapped. One kiss became a second and then a third, but when Shiro pressed them forward, Keith flung a hand out behind him to brace himself against the windowsill, his laugh breathy between them.

“Probably not the best place to do this.” He murmured, and Shiro agreed. They moved to the bed in no particular hurry, kicking off their boots and taking their time to arrange themselves, facing each other, tangling their legs together. The kisses were brief and playful and Shiro allowed Keith to learn the changes that war had brought about in him.

Under his shirt, Keith felt the welts of scars from shrapnel along his right side, along his ribs, scattered across his firm chest. Shiro pressed kisses along his crown as Keith ran his hand down the remainder of his right arm.

“Does it hurt?” He asked softly, fingers not quite touching the scarred end of the stump.

“No, not really. Sometimes I forget it's missing.”

“Like a phantom limb?” Keith dropped his hand, turning over onto his back.

“Yeah.”

Keith scratched above his eyebrow, staring up at the ceiling in contemplation. “Are you okay?”

“They say I have PTSD.”

“Do you?” Shiro turned onto his back, shrugging.

“Sometimes.” Keith leaned over him and kissed the subject off his mind.

 

When they were half asleep and the dull thud of music downstairs had died off, Keith made himself get up with a groan. Shiro grunted, his face half hidden in a pillow.

“I’m gonna go sleep downstairs.” Keith explained quietly, picking his boots up off the floor.

“Wait.” Shiro groused, and got up as well.

Together they returned to the small sitting room, finding Pidge leaching heat off Hunk as they slept and Lance sprawled on the other couch. Shiro shrugged, settling on the floor without complaint. Keith bit back his own and pulled a cushion out from under Lance’s feet. Lance stirred slightly, cracking an eye open to look at Keith.

“Where’d you go? Vanished for like, hours.”

“No where,” Keith mumbled “I was just smoking.”

“Smokin’ dick, I bet.” Lance laughed at his own nonsensical joke as Keith settled down on his back.

“Fuck off. Go to sleep.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters will update quick since all I'm really doing is typing them up from my notebooks.
> 
> Trouble is brewing. Keith keeps bleeding.
> 
> I have a [tumblr!](http://www.stickywrites.tumblr.com)

Keith woke up with Lance’s foot in his face. It was dangling over the edge of the couch, his sock nearly falling off. Keith groaned, swatting at the foot before he rolled over onto his side. Lance shoved his toes against the back of Keith’s head, apparently awake.

“Morning, princess.”

Keith found it within himself to not retaliate, instead sitting up, undoubtedly sporting wicked bed head. His throat was so dry it turned his voice into a croak.

“I’m gonna make coffee.”

 

The house was quiet because it was only just scraping past seven in the morning. Wherever there was a semi-comfortable place to crash, there was a pile of party-goers. Luckily, the kitchen wasn’t one of those places, so Keith could shuffle around without having to look down. He stared out of kitchen window while the coffee maker gurgled to life.

He poured himself a soup mug’s worth of coffee, cigarette already between his lips as he stepped out onto the back porch. For the most part, he just let the smoke burn away. Lance eventually joined him with his own soup mug of coffee. He grunted at Keith in greeting before sitting beside him on the porch steps.

“Dunno how you smoke those things.” Lance mumbled into the rim of his mug, slurping noisily.

“You were smoking like a chimney last night.”

“S’different.”

Keith hummed, rather than picking a fight. Too early for that, the sun hadn’t burned out Keith’s self restraint just yet. Together, they stared out at the dead grass in front of them, and when they needed a change, they stared at the old swing set near the back fence. Keith was starting to feel more like a human by the time he had finished his cigarette. Sustenance.

Keith was picking at his eyetooth with his thumbnail when the other’s came to join him, Pidge lounging herself over Keith’s back, chin on the top of his head. He laced his fingers with her where they dangled over his shoulders, ignoring Lance’s indignant squawk when Hunk man-handled him out of his spot on the stoop, pulling him down onto his knee before further complaint could be made. Shiro stepped between them to sit lengthwise on the bottom step, looking a little rough around the edges, his white bangs standing on end. Keith smiled at him crookedly, and he didn’t miss the curl of his lip as he took the first sip of his coffee.

It was pleasant, calm, to have everyone present and accounted for, out in the sun before it got so hot it threatened to bake them.

Then Lance spoke.

“Hey, Shiro, what’s it like killin’ a Galra?”

Pidge buried her face in Keith’s hair, barely suppressing a groan.

“Man, I’m so jealous! I wanna be out there already!” Lance continued, miming holding up a blaster, squinting like he was staring down a sight, even including the kickback in his display as he pretended to fire. “I can’t wait to kick Galra ass. I’m gonna be a hero, like you!” He turned his imaginary gun on Shiro, and Keith smacked his hand away hard. “Whoa- _what_?”

All eyes were on Lance for a tense moment, and then Shiro sipped his coffee and looked up at him.

“Keep both your eyes open, hero.”

The tension sung for a moment, then Shiro laughed and everyone visibly relaxed.

Pidge eventually squeezed herself between Keith and Hunk. The group spoke casually about their upcoming semester and Shiro told them all about his new position as a Garrison tutor. No one mentioned the war in any way other than abstract and if Keith was particularly quiet, no one drew any attention to the fact.

 

It took a couple hours for the rest of the house to wake up, rousing quietly behind the gang. When noon rolled around, anyone left behind helped clean up the beer bottles and empty plastic cups littering the rooms. They rearranged the furniture and by the time it was all done, you never would have guessed anything had happened the night before.

Hunk was given the task of getting Lance back to his family and Pidge back to the Garrison, which left Shiro standing in the driveway and Keith straddling his motorbike, arms draped over the handlebars.

“Wanna go somewhere?” Shiro asked, breaking the silence between them once they had waved the others off.

“Where? Back to the Garrison?”Keith scoffed, picking at his tooth with his thumbnail again. Bad habit. Shiro brushed his hand away.

“Anywhere.” Keith went to worrying his teeth over his lip instead. After a moment, he sat up slightly, patting the seat behind him.

“I think I know a place.”

 

Shiro’s weight against Keith’s back and his hand on his chest were little comforts as he took them into the outskirts of Heiress, away from the city proper where the homes were few and far between and mostly victims to the harsh elements that came with living out in a desert. Keith pulled into a cracked cement driveway that led up to a modest house, a little worse from where from years of neglect. The lawn was barren, and the flowerpots on the porch had nothing but soil in them.

Keith kicked down his bike’s stand and killed the engine, tugging off his helmet and resting it in his lap.

“Who’s house is this?” Shiro got to his feet first, needlessly helping Keith dismount and then following him up onto the creaking porch.

“It was my house, before dad died.”

“Keith…” Shiro started softly, but he accepted it when Keith waved him off, watching him scoot one of the pot plants to the side to pick up a key hidden beneath it. He let them in, the house gloomy even on such a bright day. Shiro closed the door behind himself, taking in the small living room.

It was eerie, like one day everyone had just upped and left- not taking a thing with them. There was still a mug on the coffee table, abandoned. If this place made Keith sad, he didn’t show it, wandering towards the hallway, skipping the floorboards he knew would creak.

Like a lot of the Heiress kids, Keith was a war orphan. He had told Shiro, a little drunk and teary-eyed, only eighteen, that his father died when he was ten and he had never known his mother. He had been swept into foster care, and then had enrolled into the Garrison which was his home now. He’d never mentioned his childhood home before, but they hadn’t really had that sort of relationship.

Shiro followed quietly, glancing into rooms that had open doors, namely the bathroom which still had towels hanging on the rack and soap by the sink.

He found Keith one door up, standing in a room with furniture that looked comically small with Keith standing among it. The walls were pale blue with a border of cartoonish cars running around them. It was Keith’s old bedroom, so Shiro lingered in the door, trying not to feel like a trespasser.

Keith was turning a small plastic dinosaur over in his hand, pressing a fingertip into it’s tiny sharp teeth before putting it back down on the dresser.

“Was this a bad idea?” He asked with a helpless laugh, looking over at Shiro. It was hot inside, Keith’s roots were damp with sweat.

“No- no, it wasn’t. I just didn’t know about this place.”

“Mm.” Keith hummed his understanding, sitting down on the small bed. “I’d forgotten about it for a long time, then it came back to me last year.”

He moved the pillow to rest against the headboard, swinging his legs up to lie down. He had to bend his knees to fit all of himself on the mattress. He gestured for Shiro to joined. Shiro laughed, opening the window first and foremost.

It took a rather intense game of limb tetris, but they eventually managed to kept comfortable on the bed, one of Shiro’s legs falling over the edge. Keith murmured an apology to his father before lighting a cigarette.

They lay together for a few minutes of silence, Keith piping smoke up at the white ceiling, his flannel tucked under his head when it had gotten far too hot to wear.

“Hey,” Shiro knocked his knee against Keith’s. “What are you thinking about?”

Keith shrugged, turning his head to face Shiro. “Nothing. Why?”

“Be my boyfriend.”

Cigarette ash fell onto Keith’s chest. He didn’t notice. “What?”

“Date me.” Shiro said, his confidence unwavering while Keith seemed to only get more flustered, blinking fast and brushing his bangs out of his eyes just to have something to do. “I know we’ve never talked about it, but we obviously like each other a lot. Your friends will figure it out sooner or later. They probably already know.”

Keith finished his cigarette and immediately lit another one, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Keith?”

“-I’m dropping out of the Garrison.”

The abrupt silence between them was deafening. Shiro pushed himself up onto his elbow, crowding himself into Keith’s line of vision.

“What?”

Keith was dizzy from the continuous smoke filling his lungs, and the rush of adrenaline of having finally admitted to it outloud. He was smoking himself out, so Shiro yanked the cigarette out from between his lips and ground it out on the headboard.

“I just- don’t think it’s right for me.” He replied weakly, his gaze sliding off to the side when the adrenaline swept away to be replaced with thick, heavy guilt.

“You’re the best pilot in the program, Keith.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to fight.” The words just sort of fell out. The hand on Keith’s stomach flexed as if it were trying to snatch them right back. He wanted to shrink away into nothing. Shiro stared at him incredulously, a dark cloud passing behind his eyes. It wounded so selfish, so stupid, when Keith was saying it to someone who had already fought and lost so much to the war; his family, his friends, his comrades and his arm. Keith felt bile rise in his throat and he closed his eyes against the feeling, swallowing hard.

“What are you going to do instead?” It sounded like an accusation. Keith curled his fingers into his shirt, reopening his eyes but keeping his gaze directed at the wall. He shrugged weakly.

“I can get a job as a mechanic, or a freight pilot--”

“A mechanic. A freight pilot.” Shiro said flatly, and Keith felt him roll away and get up off the bed. Keith scrubbed his hands over his face, sucking in a shaky breath. He regretted saying anything at all.

What made it all worse was that they still had to travel back to the Garrison together. Keith couldn’t just leave Shiro in the middle of nowhere. Shiro kept as much distance as physically possible on the ride back. When they pulled into the garage, Shiro dismounted without a word and when he looked back at Keith before leaving, it was only to shake his head slightly; disappointed.

 

They didn’t see each other again until Monday morning. Shiro was leaving Iverson’s office, and Keith was sitting on one of the hard benches outside of it, head cradled in his hands. When he heard the door open, he looked up abruptly and blanched when he saw Shiro, like he’d been burnt. They looked at each other for a moment, silent and tense, and then Shiro had gone up the hallway towards the elevator. Keith didn’t watch him get in.

 

No one saw Keith for a week. Shiro figured he really had dropped out, his heart getting caught in a vice whenever the thought came to him which, thankfully, wasn’t too often. His new role as a tutor kept him busy, and Lance, Pidge and Hunk were so deep in the intensity of their final year that Shiro never has a chance to dig painful information out of them.

When he was issued with a Garrison phone, a new level of torment began. He spent a lot of time staring at the screen, willing a message to appear even though there was no chance Keith had his contact, and he didn’t have Keith’s. At least, not until Allura took pity on him, having watched him mope for nearly a week. Among a stack of paperwork was a post-it with Keith’s contact written down in her pretty, loopy handwriting.

The first message was short and to the point: _where are you? Shiro._

He went a day before he sent the second one: _where are you? I’m sorry for what I said, I still want us to talk. Shiro._

When he didn’t get a reply to his third text on Saturday night, Shiro went to the training deck and worked out until he was ready to drop, focusing on pivots and swordwork with his single good arm, running the treadmill until sweat was dripping from his chin. It had been a week. The party, Keith’s house, the fight all seemed like memories from a lifetime ago. Shiro was ready to drop by the time he was done working out, barely making it through the shower before he collapsed into bed, his legs still trembling from exertion, too worn out to play through a million ‘what if’s.

 

Shiro woke up in a cold sweat and a panic that made it feel like his throat was closing up and his lungs were being crushed. Alarms rang loud and intrusive in his head, and his brain latched onto a single and immediate thought: _we’re under attack. We’re under attack - get up. GetupgetupGETUP! Get a weapon. Protect them protect them protect them PROTECT THEM._

He hit the floor hard, his hand flung out and desperately searching for something to fight with. Something- someone caught hold of his flailing hand. A gentle pressure came against his forehead and then Allura cut through all the noise.

“Shiro. You’re safe.” She soothed, her hand brushing his hair back from his face. “We have to get up. The commander wants all staff in the briefing room. There’s been a breakout in the detention centre.”

Shiro’s heart was still ricocheting off his ribcage, but he understood what Allura was saying. He got his feet under him. Boots on. Shirt on. These were autopilot actions, but they helped calm him down. By the time Allura had led him to the briefing room, his breathing had corrected itself and he could think clearly again.

And then he saw Keith’s face up on the screen set into the back of the room and the world bottomed out beneath him. It was an old photo, taken in his first year at the Garrison. He looked grave. His black hair barely brushed the high collar of his cadet uniform.

Allura took Shiro’s hand gently and they sat beside one another. The last of the staff shuffled in, everyone some shade of dishevelled from being woken up in the middle of the night, but they took their seats and managed to look stiff and attentive when Iverson became the briefing.

“Detainee Keith Kogane escaped from the detention centre approximately half an hour ago. He took five guards down in the process- they will recover, but because of their condition we have only just been notified, giving Kogane a head start. The subject is believed to be extremely dangerous.” The commander spoke clearly and with a level of detachment that made Shiro’s gut twist. He was talking about one of his cadets, one of his _best_ cadets, not a criminal. “We believe he has left Garrison grounds, so those of you who can be dispatched, will be. If necessary, you have permission to use force but we do want the detainee back alive.”

Allura squeezed Shiro’s hand. When all the others had filed and shuffled out of the room, Shiro and Allura remained. The commander shuffled papers at the head of the desk, aware of them, waiting for them to address him. Shiro set his jaw and stood up, defiant.

“Why was Keith being held at the detention centre?”

“That’s confidential information Shirogane.”

“But he’s not a criminal, why-”

“You’re dismissed. Both of you. You’re also to stay on Garrison grounds, you are not to be dispatched to pursue Kogane.”

Allura had to hold him back until he calmed down enough to be led out into the hallway, stopping short of the elevator.

“Do you know where he is?” Allura pressed her hand firm on Shiro’s shoulder, looking him over. Shiro hadn’t thought about it, his mind racing too much. But he sighed, closing his eyes to focus, listing off the small handful of places Keith might flee to for safety without getting anyone else into harm’s way. He nodded minutely, and Allura smiled.

“Will you need a vehicle?”

“Can’t drive stick.” Allura smiled further, pushing the button to summon the elevator.

“The Garrison has automatics, and they’re not tracked like the speeders. I can get you the keys. No one else knows that you’re not on the dispatch team, so you should be able to leave without a problem.”

The took the elevator to the dorm floor and then took the stairs the rest of the way down to the ground floor where the garage was. It was the easier way to avoid security cameras. Allura let herself into the garage office snagging the keys off their hook and handing them over to Shiro.

“Lot twenty-two.” Shiro kissed her cheek, murmuring a thank you, but she stopped him short before he could leave. “Hold on. Give me your phone.”

Shiro handed it over, eyebrows raised as Allura pulled the back off of it, then took the battery out and after a moment, she picked out a small, circular device and replaced the battery and the back. She dropped the device to the floor, stamping it out under her shoe.

“Tracking device. Don’t turn your location on, either.” Shiro nodded. He pocketed the phone and made for the garage as quickly as he could without flat out running. Lot twenty-two was home to a black SUV and if Shiro weren’t in such a hurry he might have appreciated it a little more. He opened the driver’s door but stopped short when he noticed a motorbike helmet, left on the ground of the student parking lot. It was red with a variety of stickers and permanent marker doodles. ‘LANCE IS COOL’ was written in block letters.

Keith’s helmet.

Shiro left it, got in the SUV and left the parking lot, forcing himself to stay within the Garrison grounds speed limit. Once he was past the gate, he floored it.

 

When he pulled into the cracked driveway of Keith’s family home, the SUV’s headlights bathed Keith’s trembling form, slouched over his motorbike. His hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed from the wind, but the most striking thing was the blood streaming from his nose, down his lips and chin, down onto his shirt where it stained it bright and blooming.

Shiro left the engine running, nearly tripping as he climbed out of the SUV in a rush. Keith didn’t even blink let alone look up, he just stared at his hands in front of him. He didn’t hear his name when Shiro called to him but the moment he lay a hand on Keith’s shoulder, he came a live, jerking up and bringing his hands up defensively and his breathing immediately picked up so rapidly that it must of made him dizzy. Shiro threw his hands up in surrender; not a threat.

“Keith, it’s me. It’s Shiro, you’re okay-”

“Shiro?” Keith panted, blinking owlishly over his arm raised to protect his throat. He eased it down slowly. He frowned deeply. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I had to find you before the Garrison did.” Shiro said, speaking softly as he reached over to cut the bike’s engine. When he reached to lift Keith’s chin, he allowed it. Shiro searched for injury but there were no cuts, no bruises to explain the profusely bleeding nose. Shiro pulled his sleeve down over his knuckles, gently wiping away the blood over his lips.

“What happened?”

“Uh,” Keith touched his fingers to his chin, staring down at the blood that had come away on them. He answered softly, absent-mindedly. “Migraine.”

“Must have been one hell of a migraine.”

Shiro turned the SUV’s engine off and helped Keith inside, who was still trembling slightly but his nose had stopped bleeding at least. Shiro tried the first light switch he came across, but nothing happened.

 

The kitchen faucet spluttered and ran brown, but after a few minutes it turned clear and cold. Shiro found a tea towel in a kitchen drawer, using his phone as a light, and Keith sat on the bench next to the sink and let himself be cleaned up, plucking absently at his white t-shirt turned red. It clung to his chest with equal parts blood and sweat.

Once Shiro was satisfied with the clean up job, he rinsed the tea towel out and folded it up, holding it against Keith’s forehead. Keith sighed and leaned into the cooling touch.

“Better?”

“Getting there.” Keith smiled faintly, taking over the job of holding the cloth so that he could lean into Shiro. Shiro combed out Keith’s wild hair, resting his chin on Keith’s head.

“Why were you being held in the detention centre?” Shiro felt Keith shake his head.

“No idea. I went to speak to Iverson about dropping out of the program, and then two of the detention guards came in and… I couldn’t do anything to stop them. It was go quietly or go unconscious.” Shiro rubbed at his back and let him leave it at that.

Keith took his old bed, knees tucked up so that he fit on the small mattress. He watched Shiro in the gloom as he made a makeshift bed on the floor beside him, having found some blankets in the hallway closet and taken a cushion from the couch. Keith reached a hand out and Shiro took it.

“Are you still angry with me?” He asked quietly. Shiro laced their fingers together, humming softly.

“I don’t think it matters anymore, Keith. I don’t… I need to know why the Garrison took you.” Keith hummed his agreement, watching Shiro lean up to press a warm and comforting kiss to Keith’s knuckles before he took his hand back with a soft goodnight.

 

Shiro woke up. It was still dark and cool, the house quiet. He didn’t know why he was awake, but he turned over to check on Keith regardless, only to have his breath knocked out of him in a moment of fright. In the gloom, Keith was sitting bolt upright but Shiro couldn’t see his face in the limited light. The air smelled of copper. He was bleeding and unresponsive to Shiro calling to him. He moved. Shiro watched him climb off the bed and stagger to his feet, out into the hallway. Shiro followed, staying one pace behind him as he stumbled, bumped against the walls and eventually came to a stop outside the door across from the bathroom. He whined softly, pained, pawing at the door handle uselessly. Cautiously, Shiro reached under his arm and opened the door for him and Keith walked into the room.

It must have been his parents room. The bed was stripped of all it’s linen, a dusty photo frame left on the nightstand. Keith was kneeling between the foot of the bed and an old closet, his fingers blindly running over the floorboards until he seemed to find what he was looking for and then there was the ear-splitting _crack_ of wood snapping and Shiro whirled around, stepping around Keith to crouch down across from him. In the grey light, one of Keith’s eyes looked black, corner-to-corner, but Shiro’s immediate concern was the way Keith was tearing up a piece of floor board with his bare hands, splintering the wood, nails splitting and palms being cut open as he dug. Blood from his nose stained the wood. The pieces of wood he tore up were dropped to one side. He ran his fingers around the edges of the hole he’d made, seemingly satisfied. He reached his hands down into it, leaning until he was elbow deep. His breath hitched, and he sat up slowly, bringing his hands up out of the hole, holding something wrapped in cloth. It was about fifteen inches long, but the shape was undefined.

“Keith…?” Shiro reached to touch him, but he flinched away, a sudden and almost unnatural jerk of his shoulders. “Okay- okay.”

Shiro let out a soft breath, and then Keith’s eyelashes fluttered and he collapsed back against the floor, still clutching the bundle in his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse, as they are wont to do, but at least some questions are answered.
> 
> I still have a [tumblr](http://www.stickywrites.tumblr.com)

When Keith woke up, he was in his parent’s room, lying on his back on the floor. His comforter was draped over him, flushing him with heat so that he was sweating. He could feel it along his back. Beside him, there was a hole in the floor, the rough edges flecked with blood and chipped pieces of nail. He frowned, reaching his hand out to touch, only to stop short at the sight of his mangled hands. The chipped pieces of fingernails were his. He heard footsteps in the hallway turning his head quickly to find Shiro standing in the doorway. He watched as tension visibly left Shiro’s body.

“You’re awake.”

“What-?”

“I’ll tell you soon. The shower is working, sort of. Lukewarm at best, but.” 

Keith blinked hard, rubbing his eye with his knuckles. It hurt. “Mm. Yeah.”

 

He stared at himself in the grungy bathroom mirror, gaping slightly. The whites of his right eye were no longer white at all. A hematoma had turned them blood red. Cautiously, he pulled down his bottom eyelid to inspect the damage, then he scrubbed at his eye though it made no difference. There was blood crusted around the inside of his nostrils and a coppery taste in his mouth. The dull ringing in his ears were telling him that at some point, he’d had another migraine.

A cold shower helped. Keith stood under the stream for a long time, letting it melt away the residual headache and clean away any trace of blood, save the taste in his mouth. He didn’t put his blood soaked shirt back on, just his jeans, wandering out to the kitchen with damp hair and a growling stomach. Before he could do anything to fix that though, Shiro stepped in front of him, gesturing over to the kitchen counter where a first aid kit waited for him. Keith sat on the counter, and between the two of them they cleaned and bandaged Keith’s fingers and he managed to contain most of his complaints while Shiro pulled splinters out of his palms with a pair of tweezers.

Once they were done, Keith stared down at the bandages, picking at the tied ends on the inside of his wrist.

“Don’t.” Shiro laughed and Keith groused, dropping his hands into his lap. “I went out and got us some food, and a change of clothes for you.”

“Food.” Keith said, before Shiro could even get the full sentence out.

 

Keith wolfed down two sandwiches without a word, pausing only once to pull on the black t-shirt shiro had bought him- ‘To hide the blood’. Keith had grunted around a mouthful in thanks. For a moment things were normal. Shiro had even bought Keith cigarettes, one of which he lit off of the gas stove, cracking open the kitchen window to try and keep the smell to a minimum. Keith slowed down. Of course it couldn’t last long, though. Once his cigarette was spent and he’d eaten the last few bites of his sandwich, he asked Shiro what had happened, and Shiro told him.

Keith stared out of the kitchen window, ash from the cigarette between his lips falling into the sink. Shiro watched him, leaning against the island counter.

“Keith?”

“The- the thing I dug up. Where is it?” He heard Shiro move, leaving the room for a few minutes. When he came back, he set the cloth bundle down next to the sink. Keith sucked in a breath, coughing when all he got was acrid smoke from his cigarette burning down too close to the filter. He dropped it into the sink, hanging his head. Shiro ran a hand down his back lightly. They glanced at each other, and then Keith snatched up the bundle and tore away the cloth.

It was a knife in an old cracking leather sheath. The handle was wrapped in more cloth. Keith worried his lip, holding his breath as he pulled the sheath away, revealing the strange but not unfamiliar blade. Shiro audibly sucked in a breath. Keith slowly unwound the cloth covering the handle and spine of the knife, dropping it with a loud clank into the sink when it was revealed.

On the spine was a strange S like symbol, purple, almost glowing and unmistakably Galran.

They stared at it and before Shiro asked, Keith shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“It was in your house.”

“I’ve never seen it before.” Keith looked over at Shiro, his expression slightly distraught, looking for acceptance, belief. Shiro frowned faintly, throwing the cloth down over the blade before wrapping his arm around Keith, pulling him in close. He kissed his forehead, his crown and Keith pressed into him.

“I believe you. I believe you.” He felt some of the tension unwind out of Keith’s body, and a desperate embrace turned into a comforting one. They knew how to hold each other like this, they had done it all the time when their big fears were exams and tutors that were tough on them. The last time had been before Shiro had been deployed. When Keith looked up, nudging his nose against Shiro’s jaw, he gave in. They kissed quietly, slowly. Keith ran his hand through Shiro’s undercut and Shiro slipped his hand into Keith’s back pocket, because he knew how much he liked it. It was a short reprieve from what had turned out to be a hectic twenty-four hours. But it couldn’t last. Shiro tugged gently at Keith’s lip as he pulled back. Keith bit back his complaint.

“Keith…” He soothed his hand up the curve of his back. “I think this has something to do with why the Garrison detained you.” Shiro’s gaze flicked down into the sink briefly. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to find out.”

“Are you going to tell me to stay here?”

Shiro didn’t need to confirm it. Keith nodded slightly, putting distance between them reluctantly.

“I’ll be as quick as I can be.”

“I know.” Shiro kissed him quickly, pulling back before he could get too invested, and left Keith standing in the kitchen, his arms wrapped around himself.

 

Returning to the Garrison was fairly easy. It was only Sunday, so he was free to come and go as he pleased, so long as no one knew he had left last night. They weren’t on lock-down, just in case Keith felt like wandering in and turning himself over. Fat chance.

He kept the car keys and took the elevator up to the dorms, finding Allura sitting on her bed, reading through the news like a woman starved. When she noticed Shiro, she couldn’t help but throw him into a hug, relief washing over her after a night of worrying.

“Did you-?”

“Yeah.” She relaxed more, stepping back and squaring her shoulders; she meant business.

“What do you need?”

“Access to the records room. Something must have happened, I’m hoping there’s a paper trail.” Shiro said, his jaw tensing. It made his teeth hurt. He knew he was asking a lot, but at least he was a tutor now which made it seem a little less strange for him to be snooping around in student files. Allura thought for a moment, then nodded, her mind made up.

“Okay. Come with me.”

“No, wait.” Shiro stayed firm in the doorway, “There are cameras down there, I don’t want you getting in trouble. Can you let me in remotely?”

Allura frowned in thought, “The hard copies of the files can be accessed by a pin code. The pin code isn’t unique to anyone, either, so they can’t track it back to me or you if you don’t get caught. Hold on-” She turned to her side table pulling open the top drawer until she found a pen. “Give me your arm.” Shiro obeyed, watching as Allura quickly wrote down the four-digit code on the inside of his wrist. “That will get you in. The current files are to the left of the doorway, alphabetically arranged by surname.”

“Thank you. I’ll message you later, to let you know I’m okay.”

Shiro took the stairs down to the basement levels where the records were kept, both digital and hard copies. The Garrison was wary of technology and how vulnerable it was, especially with how advanced the Galra were. The threat of them wiping everything off their servers was very real. 

There was no way to avoid the cameras, so Shiro tried to make it look like he wasn’t doing something he shouldn’t, walking confidently to the archive door and typing in the pin code. The flickering light above the handle went from red to green, and Shiro slipped in.

The room smelled of ink, paper and dust. The records room was a huge space full of rows and rows of shelves holding every single file on every single cadet, staff member and graduate that had ever passed through this Garrison branch over the past twenty-odd years. Shiro tried not to be daunted by the task at hand, heading left to start the search for Keith’s file. He dragged his hands along the spines of neatly bound files, some thin, some thick enough that Shiro wondered how that cadet was still allowed to train. He murmured under his breath, Keith’s last name over and over as turned down another aisle. On the third shelf he found what he was after.

‘KOGANE, KEITH’

Shiro worried his lip for a moment, before drawing the file out. He crouched down in the aisle so that he could open the file out across his lap. The same photo as they had used in the briefing stared up at him, attached to some enrollment forms by a paperclip. The first few pages after that were standard issues the Garrison required before they could accept new cadets; high school grades, aptitude test results. Fitness and health reports, psychological evaluation. After that was his grades as a cadet, exam results, reviews from his tutors and from Iverson, incident reports. Nothing helpful. Keith was a fantastic student, a bit of a hot-head but nothing particularly notable. He had a total of three incident reports. Two mentioned Lance, and they were all from his first year in the program. Shiro scrubbed his hand over his face, fearing it was a dead end.

He flicked back to the front, staring down at Keith’s firm expression, and then he noticed something he hadn’t before, something he must have dislodged- the corner of a page jutted out from between the enrollment forms. Out of hope or desperation, Shiro yanked it out and lay it over the file.

It was a medical report dated back to the beginning of this summer.

Shiro held his breath and shoved the slip of paper into his pocket.

 

Keith already knew. He already knew what Shiro had undoubtedly uncovered by now. So he waited on the couch, curled up with his back against the arm of it. The Galra blade was on the coffee table, the cloth open underneath it as if to protect the table’s surface from some kind of contagion. It couldn’t touch his old life, even if it had been buried beneath it all this time.

Keith didn’t get up when he heard Shiro come in, burying his face against his knees until Shiro’s heavy footfalls stopped beside him. His breath was shaky, but he looked up through his bangs. Expecting fear, expecting hatred.

Shiro’s expression was soft, for the most part. His jaw was held tense but it was common these days. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the hastily folded piece of paper, but he didn’t need to show it to Keith.

“You already know, don’t you?”

“I… Had a feeling.” Keith said cautiously, tension seeping into him in preparation for anything that might be about to come his way.

“Keith…” Shiro dropped the paper onto the coffee table, next to blade, then sunk onto his knees beside the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Keith tried his best to pull his knees closer to his chest, shaking his head minimally.

“I didn’t want you to hate me.” Keith kept his eyes on Shiro  no matter how much he didn’t want to, in case something changed in his eyes. “The Galra… They took so much from you, and now I’m…”

“You’re still you.” Shiro interrupted, his hand coming up to the wriggle Keith’s free so he’d let go of his knees and uncurl himself. He was making himself so small, like prey. “I’ve known you since you were eighteen and there was never a moment when you were anything other than the boy born and raised in Heiress, who liked to pick fights with his best friend and feel bad about it later.” Shiro moved his hand up into Keith’s hair, smiling faintly when he let him. “The boy who let Pidge bunk with him for a week after her father died. You’re a lot of things, Keith. A hot-head, a smart mouth, a surprisingly talented singer. But you’re not some kind of monster, you’re not a warmonger. What’s in your blood doesn’t define who you are.”

Keith swallowed hard, lifting his chin and letting his gaze slide over to the blade on the table, only to have Shiro cup his cheek and force him to look away.

Keith didn’t cry. He let himself be pulled into the kiss, a delicate brush of the lips, until Keith cracked and threw his arms around Shiro’s neck, crashing into the kiss and not letting go until they were both breathless, Shiro’s hair as messy as it could get.

“Nothing’s changed, Keith. Nothing.”

Keith ran his fingers through the white streak of Shiro’s hair, brushed it back into his soft black hair. His forehead creased, his lips pressing into a firm line. Shiro tilted his head slightly, his thumb rubbing at Keith’s temple to try and rub away the tension.

“What about everyone else? Lance, Pidge, Hunk… Allura.” Shiro leaned in, kissing Keith’s forehead.

“They’re your friends. They’ll accept this the same way they accepted everything else.”

“But if they don’t--”

“Then we’ll deal with it, Keith. Whatever happens, I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“But the Garrison-”

“No more but’s, Keith. The Garrison has had more than enough of my time. Enough of  _ me _ . I came back to Heiress because the people I love are here. My family is here.”

Keith finally relaxed, his fears having been successfully quelled for the time being, and Shiro reached over and flicked the cloth up over the blade. Out of sight, out of mind for now.

 

It was still early. Shiro hadn’t been gone long, as he’d promised, but they had lunch anyway.

Keith picked at his food, more interested in chain smoking than anything on his plate. Shiro didn’t push him to eat, quietly contemplating their next move. Keith lit his third cigarette off the embers of his second before grinding it into the porcelain plate, ignoring the way his head was spinning because he was smoking himself out, throat aching. After a while, he got up to stretch, rounding the table to lay himself against Shiro’s back, piping smoke over his shoulder unapologetically. Shiro reached a hand back into Keith’s hair gently. Between drags, Keith pressed his face into Shiro’s neck, warm and firm. He breathed in deep, feeling more than hearing Shiro’s affectionate laugh.

“What’s up, kid?”

Keith hummed, tapping the ash off his cigarette onto Shiro’s plate, then he finished it off and ground it out. 

“Just want to be like this for a while.” He murmured, his arms loose around Shiro’s waist, hands sliding lightly over his stomach, up to his firm, broad chest. It hadn’t been like this when he had left. Shiro had always been strong, strong enough to throw Keith over his shoulder like he was a sack of potatoes and cart him away from a fight. But this was new muscle, muscle formed from struggling and fighting, desperation and loss. He felt along Shiro’s shoulders, feeling the tension there, ingrained there no matter much Keith kneaded his skin, which he did now, pressing his thumbs in firmly. Shiro hummed his appreciation. Keith kissed the spot where his thumb had been once his hands moved on. “Haven’t called me kid in a long time.”

“I always thought you hated it. After a while it was just to see you bristle.”

“Takashi Shirogane, a tease? Unbelievable.” Keith chuckled, his hands on Shiro’s biceps, not the least bit hesitant, to Shiro’s relief. “I guess I didn’t like it when I was eighteen. I wanted so badly to be taken seriously.”

“I think you took yourself seriously enough for everyone.” Keith huffed, then blew a loud, wet raspberry against Shiro’s neck which made him laugh, really laugh. He scrubbed his hand through Keith’s hair, leaving it a mess.

“I just admired you.” Keith admitted quietly.

“Do you kiss everyone you look up to?” 

“I was drunk.” Keith groaned, pressing hard into Shiro’s shoulder.

“You were beautiful.” Keith pressed harder, grousing to himself. “You were! I’d never seen you so relaxed. Like a whole new person had suddenly been let out. All it took was a birthday party in Lance’s basement.”

“Somehow, I had hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

Shiro went quiet, tilting his head to lean against Keith’s. Keith’s hand returned to his chest, seeking out his heartbeat. Strong and calm. When Shiro was quiet for far too long, Keith nudged gently. “What are you thinking about?”

“The- my time serving. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. Sometimes it feels like I just left, and at its worst…”

“Feels like you’re still there?” Shiro hummed; Keith was right. “You’re home. I’m sorry that you’re caught up in my mess.”

“I thought about you- when I was up there. Lance, Hunk, Pidge- all of them, but mostly you. There’s no-one left for me on Earth, except for you and our friends.” Keith breathed in deeply, rubbing his cheek into Shiro’s shoulder. “I desperately wanted to see you.”

“And then I told you I was leaving.”

“I wasn’t upset that you were leaving the Garrison. I- I have very little love left for the Garrison, but you…”

“I wouldn’t have left you. I would have come back for you.”

“No one comes back to Heiress, baby.” Shiro laughed quietly, loud enough just for him and Keith.

“You did.”

“I did. You’re right. But you were getting ready to run. You would have kept running.”

“I knew they had found out. They changed the way they looked at me. I thought they might let me go then, let me run.”

“How did  _ you _ know?” Shiro asked, lifting his head although all he could see of Keith was his messy hair.

“There was no definitive moment,” Keith said, voice muffled. “Just… Something changed. I felt it, I knew.”

“The migraines?”

“I’d had one months back, nothing like the one I’d had at the detention centre or last night.”

Shiro exhaled slowly, reaching up to lay his hand on Keith’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his skin until he got him to look up.

“We have to tell the others. They have no idea what’s going on, but by now they would have heard something. They’ll be worrying.” Shiro kissed the tip of Keith’s nose. “I’ll be right beside you.”

 

Shiro called Allura, promising her that both he and Keith were both alright and then asking her to bring Lance, Pidge and Hunk to the home, giving her the address while Keith wore holes in the carpet pacing back and forth, smoking, combing a hand through his hair until it was standing on end. When Shiro hung up, he stood up and caught Keith’s shoulder, kissing his forehead.    
“She’ll be on her way soon. It’ll be okay, Keith. Just relax.”

It took about an hour for Allura to gather everyone up, get them in her jeep and drive out to the edge of Heiress. Keith hadn’t been able to sit still for a moment, but he still jumped when he heard the car pull into the driveway. Shiro, ever cautious, peered out through the living room window to make sure it was who they were expecting and when he saw the gang climbing out of the jeep, Shiro opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. Keith let out a shaky breath, stepping out after him.

“Keith!” Lance whooped the moment he saw him, bounding up the porch steps in two strides and throwing himself at his friend, the others not far behind and adding onto the pile. There were cries of ‘ _ where have you been?!’ _ and _ ‘we were so worried about you’ _ . Allura came up the porch steps slowly, stopping in front of Shiro with a fond smile directed at the friends and Keith’s bright red face.

“I’m glad you’re both safe.” She said, touching Shiro’s arm lightly. “I was hoping I would hear from you sooner. Why did you bring us out here?”

“Sorry, we got caught up in some things. We have something to tell everyone, if you want to come inside.”

“Anything to get out of this heat!” Pidge piped up from somewhere between Keith and Lance. She pushed at her friends, and they all tumbled in through the front door into the living room that hadn’t seen so much life in years. Lance let out a low whistle as he looked around, and Pidge groused that it was even hotter inside than out, pushing her hair back from her face. Shiro found his way to Keith’s side, brushing their hands together lightly, but not holding on. Keith looked up to him, his fear clear in his expression. He couldn't lay eyes on Allura at all, even when she hugged him and ruffled his hair fondly. 

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, the gang settled down a little, all eyes turning to Keith and Shiro. In Keith’s hand was the paper Shiro had brought back from the Garrison, slightly crumpled from constantly being handled by Keith. He wanted a cigarette. Lance scratched at the back of his neck.

“What’s going on?”

“Um-” Keith stammered slightly, licking his lips. He would  _ kill _ for a cigarette right now. “I wanted to explain why I- why I was detained by the Garrison.” It was all he could say, the rest of the words turning to clay in his throat, so he stepped over and shoved the piece of paper into Pidge’s hands. She blinked down at it, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“What is it?” Hunk looked over her shoulder, brow furrowing. Lance crowded over her shoulder as well and Allura’s gaze flicked over to Shiro. “What’s it say?”

“It’s a DNA test.” Pidge explained quietly, “It says the patient is part human, part Galra.”

“It’s mine.” Keith blurted out while he still had the nerve, immediately curling in on himself and moving closer to Shiro, staring at the floor. “It’s- me. I’m part Galra.”

Shiro’s hand on his shoulder was an anchor that stopped Keith from collapsing, or running when the silence stretched out, the tension in the air thick enough to slice through. Keith’s legs felt hollow.

“This is a joke, right?” Lance asked, glancing from Keith to Shiro and then back to Pidge. Pidge licked her lips, Hunk wiped at the sweat on his forehead. Keith couldn’t bring himself to look Allura in the eye, but she was watching them steadily, eyes wide.

“It’s not.” Keith cleared his throat. “It’s true. I only recently found out. So did the Garrison.”

The tension in the room was suffocating like an air thick with humidity. Keith’s throat felt like it was closing up. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but he was getting close. “It’s- why they want me.”

The sound of paper being crumpled into a ball was loud. Pidge tossed the paper down onto the carpet, shrugging slightly.    
“Alright.” She said simply. “I’ve known you like, my whole life. I don’t think you’re going to suddenly turn purple and try to take over the planet.”

After a moment of contemplation, Hunk and Lance were shrugging and nodding as well, agreeing. “Yeah, man. You’re an asshole, but that’s nothing new. We’re cool.”

“Totally cool.” Hunk encouraged.

Keith rubbed at his eyes, his shoulders shuddering as he tried not to cry, blinking back the mist distorting his vision.   
“Really?” He didn’t mean for his voice to crack. The dam broke when he was scooped up into one of Hunk’s rib cracking hugs, Lance and Pidge pressing in from either side. Shiro’s fist came down on the top of his head in a noogie.

Everyone was sprawled around the dining room table aside from Keith, who had pulled a chair over to the open window so he could smoke. Lance was asking endless, inane questions about Keith’s Galra heritage. Mostly concerning his ears and his skin color. The answers were all a resounding ‘ _ no _ ’, even though Keith wasn’t sure. As always, Pidge was the practical one, cutting down to the brass tacks of the situation while her mind split in all different directions.   
“We have to get you out of Heiress.” Keith licked his lips and ashed his cigarette. “The Garrison is going to start crawling all over town soon. Someone like you has never been found before, you could help them in ways they never would have imagined. A live hybrid specim-”

“Pidge.” Shiro warned. Her eyes wandered and she ducked her head. She cleared her throat and spoke a little softer.

“That being said, with your help they might be able to put an end to the war.”

“Yeah, if he turns into a human guinea pig! Or, Galra-human guinea pig.” Hunk protested, gesturing widely to Keith in his seat at the window. “They locked him up like some criminal just ‘cause of his blood, nevermind that he’s basically been the perfect cadet for like three years.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s gonna be in the lap of luxury if he turns himself over.” Lance agreed, scratching at his chin. “It’ll be rough.”

“So, it’s a no-go. No going back to the Garrison.” Pidge concluded. A silence settled over them, sinking into thought. Keith eventually roused, closing the window before getting up. He took himself out onto the front porch where Allura sat on the steps, her long hair swept up off of her neck.

“Allura?” He called softly, and she jumped at the sound, looking up over her shoulder at him. “Hey. Um, are you okay?”

“Keith.” She smiled faintly, looking back across the front lawn. “I’m… Alright. It’s just quite a shock.”

“Yeah, I know.” Keith said, sitting down beside her on the step, leaving space between them. “It must be hard on you. I know what the Galra did to your people.”

“The Galra are monsters,” Allura agreed, squinting up at the sky. “But… I don’t think you are. Like everyone said. You’re Keith.”

No one wanted to leave, but in the end there was no reason for them to stay. They had gone around in circles trying to think of what to do with Keith, until Shiro had pointed out that for now they had time. The Garrison didn’t know where they were yet. They had no idea what resources they had or where Keith could go that would be out of the Garrison’s reach. So they left while Keith was still warm from their hugs.

 

Keith collapsed down onto the couch, heaving a sigh at the ceiling and slinging an arm over his eyes. Shiro sat on the couch arm above Keith’s head, brushing his fingers through his bangs.

“That went pretty well, right?”

“Yeah.” Keith mumbled, moving his arm to look up at Shiro. His right eye was still bright with blood, and Shiro gently ran his thumb over his eyebrow. “Thank you. I was fucking… terrified. I thought they were going to hate me, I would have left thinking that they hated me if you hadn’t-”

“Shh, baby.” Shiro soothed, laying his hand on his forehead. “You were brave. Get some rest.”

It didn’t take long. Keith was out like a light before the sun had even set, casting him in soft shades of orange where it came through the windows. It was still hot, so Shiro folded Keith’s comforter near his feet for if he woke up cold. Shiro kissed his forehead, and left him to sleep. He was just as tired, crawling down into his makeshift bed on the floor of Keith’s childhood bedroom, glad that at least one hurdle had been jumped without a problem. Tomorrow would be different. They would know Shiro was missing when he didn’t show up for class.

Tomorrow, it would be time to start running. Keith knew that his friends still loved him, so maybe leaving wouldn't be so hard.

Shiro could hear the vague sounds of a fight somewhere outside of him- but they blended so well with his dreams that he simply turned over and held onto the strands of sleep still curling around his brain.

He jerked awake at the sound of a loud crash, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He was disorientated for a moment, stumbling to his feet and tripping on the sheets under him, and then he remembered exactly where he was.

_ Keith _ .

“Keith!”

He knew he was too late; the living room was a mess, clear signs of a struggle, Keith’s comforter on the floor and the coffee table kicked out of place. The front door swung slightly, bouncing off of the broken lock that made it impossible to close. He ran outside, across the lawn and onto the road in time to see the lights of a vehicle heading back into the Heiress citadel. His knees hit the asphalt followed by his fist that came down so hard that his knuckles were scuffed, blood welling under the surface of the skin and all he could do to burn through the adrenaline, the frustration, the ache, was to scream and cry and pound his fist against the road. They had taken the SUV with them, as well as Keith’s motorbike which had stood untouched since Saturday night. Last night. It felt like a week had past, not a single day.

Shiro stayed where he was for a long time. He didn’t know what else to do.

Blinding headlights were the only thing that could get Shiro to look up. He threw his hand up, squinting. He heard the car door open, and a slim figure cut through the light.

“Shiro?” Allura called, creeping closer until she was blocking out the light. Shiro blinked, dropping his hand. Allura looked upset- her mouth tense and brow furrowed. “Shiro, I’m so sorry-”

Shiro saw red.

He wasn’t sure how they had ended up in the house. Shiro was pacing like a trapped animal while Allura tried to calm herself down before the next round. Shiro’s throat was raw. He’d been shouting, furious, but he hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t hit her- he couldn’t, wouldn’t, no matter how angry he was. He was snapping his jaws at her, though.

“You sat with him and told him that you accepted him, Allura.” His voice was low this time, a growl. He had no new words to speak, just talking in circles while he tried to understand what had happened. Or rather, why Allura had told the Garrison where Keith was. “How could you have led the Garrison right to him- he was your  _ friend _ . You  _ know _ what they’ll do to him-”   
“No-” Allura took a step forward, her hands clutched to her chest, “No, we don’t know. They won’t hurt him-”

“Until he outlives his purpose. They  _ slaughter _ Galra every day. He’s only  _ half _ but they’ll still do the same.”

Allura breathed out hard, her chin trembling. “The Galra murdered my people. They destroyed my planet. They killed my father. The Galra are monsters, Shiro.”

“And because Keith is half-Galra, he should be thrown to the dogs like the rest of them. Nevermind that for twenty-two years he had no idea he was anything other than human. A human boy who lost his human father, who has wanted nothing more than to continue the fight since then, who’s dedicated three years--” Shiro bit his words off. He huffed through his nose, scrubbing his over his face. “Keith isn’t a monster. He’s our friend- you’ve known him longer than you’ve known me. And you betrayed him, Allura. You can’t fix this, either.”

Allura wrapped her arms around herself, looking away, down at the carpet. “I know.” She said softly. “I can’t fit it, but I- regret it. I regret hurting you, Shiro.”

Shiro dropped heavily into the couch, resting his head in his hand.

“He’s one of the few things I had left. One of the few things that can make my days not so… horrific.” Allura hesitated, taking cautious steps forward. “Do you know what I saw out there, Allura? Have you been up there since you arrived her?”

“... No.” She said quietly.

“Lives being ruined. Not just soldiers, Allura. The Galra are hurting their own people as much as ours. I think you forgot, or maybe don’t know, but every way starts with the warmongers and their own people.”

Allura sank down to the floor in front of him, blinking back tears and compulsively pushing her hair back from her face.

“I made a mistake, Shiro. Forgive me.”

“Help me find a way to correct it, and you’re forgiven.”

Allura pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, closing her eyes against the tears that gathered against the side of her hand.

“There’s-” She sobbed wetly. “There’s no way. You won’t ever be allowed to set foot on Garrison grounds again.”

“We can’t let him die-”

Allura reached for Shiro’s hand, grateful that he didn’t flinch away. “I’ll do everything I can, Shiro. Everything.”

Shiro nodded weakly, bowing his head to rest it against their hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith dreams. Things start getting exposed. Love is made.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.stickywrites.tumblr.com)

Keith stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, blinking slowly and scrubbing at his cheek. Like a lot of people, he hadn’t realized how drunk he was until he had stood up. He’d wobbled through the crush of teenagers to get to the bathroom where he turned on the faucet and drank cool water out of his hands, a few messy mouthfuls before turning the tap off. His cheeks were lightly flushed ( _was i that drunk?)_ , his hair messy from Lance ruffling it to aggravate Keith, in which he had succeeded in doing from the moment Keith had thumped down the stairs into Lance’s basement.

It was Lance’s nineteenth birthday and he was well liked enough that it seemed like everyone in the Garrison project had showed up to help him celebrate, which meant that the basement was suffocatingly hot and even louder, between the music, the talking, the hollering of success or loss from the beer pong table that Lance was currently dominating. Keith had come because Lance was in all of his classes and they seemed to keep talking to each other even after they had taken a swing at each other within the first week of the semester. Also, Pidge had pouted and pleaded and Keith hadn’t been able to say no to her since they were eight years old.

The bathroom door swung open, snapping Keith out of his stupor with a jump.

“Oh- sorry. It wasn’t locked.” Keith knew the guy who had stumbled in, Takashi Shirogane ( _shiro_ ). He was in his graduate year and had already been given his deployment orders for the moment he was no longer a cadet. He was Heiress’ pride and joy, even though he hadn’t been born here, and Keith had run into him once or twice on the training deck late at night when apparently, neither of them could sleep. They never talked much, but they had sparred a few times. Keith never won.

“It’s okay,” Keith mumbled, turning on the faucet again to wet his hands and scrub them over his face. “I was just…”

“Yeah.” Shiro laughed a little, leaning in the doorway. “You’re looking a little glassy there, kid.”

Keith scowled, shoving his hair back from his forehead. “I’m fine.” He groused, and he shouldered past Shiro, their eyes meeting for a moment before Keith was folded into the crowd.

They ran into each other again. Keith was dancing as much as one could when there wasn’t even a hand's width between him and the next person. He had a drink in his hand, drunk, his eyelids heavy and his head lulled back. He bumped into someone. There was a firm chest against his back, and Keith blinked up. Takashi Shirogane. He was incredibly handsome even at his angle in the low lights, with dark hair and sharp eyes, a jawline Keith reached out to touch without thinking ( _he was so warm_ ). Takashi Shirogane smiled a little at the touch, saying something Keith didn’t catch.

“I wanna smoke.” Keith replied regardless, and Takashi Shirogane was good enough to lead him to the basement stairs, helping him up with a laugh and a hand on either shoulder. They wound up on the back porch, Keith fumbling with his packet of cigarettes until he had one between his lips. He cursed under his breath when his lighter didn’t work on the first, second, third try. Shirogane made it work, and Keith leaned in to the set the tip of the cigarette alight. He mumbled a thank you, staring out at the dry grass and scatter of children’s toys in Lance’s backyard. He had lots of younger siblings. They were staying with an aunt so that they stood a chance of getting some sleep tonight. Keith exhaled smoke through his nose.

“How are you doing there?”

“M’fine.” Keith asserted again, flashing Shirogane a blurry smile. “You can go back down if you want.”

“No, I needed some air anyway. Let’s sit down, okay?” He watched with an amused smile as Keith managed to make a mission out of folding down onto the step, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Shirogane kept a hand on him to steady him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Good?”

“Yeah- yeah.” Keith waved a dismissive hand before taking a deep drag on his smoke, tilting his head and grinning over at Shirogane as he exhaled. “Why’re you at Lance’s party?”

Shirogane shrugged slightly, still smiling, watching Keith. “Everyone else is here, so why not? I’m graduating soon. I intend to enjoy earth while I’m still on it.”

“Mmmm,” Keith hummed, taking a sip of the boozy concoction Lance had shoved into his hand at some point. “Takashi Shirogane, golden boy of Heiress.”

“Most people just call me Shiro.” He laughed, scratching at his undercut. “I hear you’re doing pretty well, too, Keith.” Keith whipped his head around, facing Shiro full on at the sound of his name. Shiro laughed hard, tipping his head back. “Yeah, I know who you are, kid.”

“What do you know?” Keith asked, his bottom lip jutting out slightly in a rather bratty display that Shiro loved.

“You did amazingly well on your aptitude test. You’re a promising young pilot, if your simulation results are anything to go by. Great grades. Iverson’s watching you.” Shiro listed off easily, chasing away Keith’s petulant expression. “And you’re _actually_ an Heiress boy.” ( _no i’m not…_ )

Keith squinted at him, finishing off his cigarette and his drink, setting his cup down on the step. “Wanna go dance?”

“Sure.”

 

They danced together for what felt like a long time, Keith loose and laughing to the point where Shiro was mostly holding him up, his hands firm against his back as they swayed and bounced along to the synth music. Keith sang along whenever the music had lyrics, and Shiro leaned in to catch the pretty, surprising voice. Keith threw his arms around Shiro’s neck once he had caught onto what Shiro wanted, and he lifted himself up onto his toes so that he could croon directly into his ear, no longer singing along to the music, singing his own songs between endearing, but drunk giggles.

“Why are you in the Garrison with a voice like that?” Shiro laughed against Keith’s ear, their skin already so hot that any blushes were well disguised. “Sound like you should be in a jazz bar.”

“Are those still around?” Keith tipped his head back so they were facing each other, dancing still to the slow tune of Keith’s song rather than the very real, loud music. It felt like it was done in stop motion when Keith lunged forward, crashing his lips into Shiro’s roughly, insistently until he felt Shiro’s mouth open against his, Shiro’s hand curling into the back of Keith’s shirt. Shiro tasted sweet until Keith had successfully tainted his tongue with the taste of nicotine.

They separated when Keith was panting for breath, still close but not clinging to each other in the same way. They stared at each other, kiss-bruised and hazy. Keith wanted more. ( _was this really how it happened?_ )

And then Pidge barreled into him, slinging a skinny arm around Keith’s neck and yanking him down to her height.

“Come play beer pong!” She shouted in his ear, yanking him away. Keith kept his eyes on Shiro, mouth open as he tried to find something to say to him-- but then he lost his face in the sea of cadets, and let Pidge drag him along.

He didn’t see Shiro again that night.

 

The next time he saw Shiro, it was nearly midnight and Keith was working a Garrison training dummy over with a polearm so hard that his forehead was damp with sweat, his fringe pushed back and damp enough that it stayed. He heard the door _whoosh_ open, and then the pleasant, clear voice calling: “End session.”  
The dummy went still, back into neutral mode and then the floor swallowed it up, taking it back down into storage. Keith huffed, wiping his face down with a towel and staring over at Shiro.

“Why did you do that?”

“The dummies get predictable after a while. Sparring with another person is more beneficial.” Shiro explained easily, putting his bag down against the wall and taking down a polearm for himself. He winked at Keith ( _a flirt from the start_ ), padding into the centre of the room and settling into a comfortable stance, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment. “Up for it? I’ll go easy.”

Keith took a long drink of water from his bottle before tossing it down on top of his towel. “No need. I’m not tired yet.”

Keith mimicked Shiro’s stance, and they tapped the ends of their weapons together to signify the beginning of the round. They circled each other slowly, stances wide and steps light. Keith lunged first, and from there the round became fast and to an untrained eye, chaotic. But they were both quick on their feet, good at close quarter combat, confident with a polearm. For a long time, despite his previous workout, Keith managed to keep up.

And then Shiro played dirty and went for Keith’s legs, sweeping his feet out from under him so that he fell onto his ass. He gaped up at Shiro, stunned.

“What? There are no rules in a real fight.” Shiro grinned, offering his hand down to Keith. After a moment of squinting up at him, Keith took his hand and let Shiro haul him to his feet. They were close now, chests nearly touching when they took in deep breaths. “You should be ready for anything, kid.”

“You always played fair before.”

“Upset?” Shiro smirked, leaning forward so that they were eye level and closer still. Keith held his breath without thinking about it.

“I didn’t say that.” Keith snipped, his eyes tracking from Shiro’s and down to his mouth. Shiro kissed him this time, cupping his cheeks to pull him in close. Even though they had plenty of time, it was a frantic kiss, Keith’s mouth dropping open against his with a soft moan. Keith grinned into the kiss when Shiro reached down to grab his thighs, hoisting him up off the floor and Keith instinctively wrapped his legs around his waist, letting Shiro take his weight and push him back against the padded wall. Keith grabbed at the back of Shiro’s shirt, bunching it up into one fist so that he could get a hand on his warm skin, feeling the hard muscles there, still singing with exertion from their work out.

“Was hoping you’d be here,” Shiro murmured into Keith’s mouth, pulling back long enough to yank off his shirt entirely. “We got interrupted at the party.”

Keith dragged his hands along Shiro’s shoulders, down his chest. “Mm, I can never say no to Pidge.”

Shiro laughed a little, then he kissed Keith again, running his hands up his shirt, feeling his sharp hip bones and ribcage under soft skin. Muscles were only beginning to form, but Keith had plenty of potential. He pushed Keith up harder against the wall, making him gasp.

Shiro grasped Keith’s hand as they wound through the hallways and down the staircases, stopping on landings to press one another into the railings and kissing any recovered breath away again. Keith was laughing, and every time Shiro told him to be quiet he laughed harder.

Their clothes and gym bags scattered across Shiro’s dorm room floor. A firm hand between his shoulderblades kept Keith’s face pressed into the pillow, muffling his moans and cries while Shiro fucked him into the mattress.

When it was over, they were sweaty again and panting, lying beside each other on the narrow dorm bed, Shiro’s arm under Keith’s head, his hand playing with his damp hair.

“Stay here tonight.”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.”

( _this is a dream_ )

( _i love you_ )

 

********

Keith woke up with the taste of blood in his mouth, something he was truly starting to despise. He’d never had so many blood noses before, and he didn’t like them. He turned onto his side, rubbing his cheek into his pillow and sighing. Just a little more sleep. It was all he wanted, sleep, long and deep so that things could be simple for a while.

It wouldn’t come. Keith reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking into the gloom. His head was sore, but not being assaulted by bright lights stopped it from getting worse.

It was cool in this room, though Keith couldn’t hear the hum of an air conditioner. Where was he? He was wearing the strange, dark suit he’d been changed into before being put into a transport to the research facility, but the sensors built into it seemed to no longer be activated, gone dark rather than the soft glow they had had before. He had never made it to the facility- something had happened, but he’d been blinded by his worst migraine yet. No memories had survived it. Keith groaned, turning onto his stomach. The linen was soft and sweet smelling. He just wanted to sleep, go back to his dreams.

“Kogane?”

Keith sat up right, twisting around and throwing his hands out into the dark to try and find the body attached to the voice, ready to fight. His heart was rabbiting. He didn’t feel ready to fight, but he would if it came to that. “Who’s there?!”

“It’s alright, you’re safe. We intercepted the transport to the research facility-”

“Are you with the Garrison?” Keith barked.

“No. We are your friends, Kogane. Your guardians.”

“Guardians?” Keith splayed his fingers out, squinting into the dark.

“We knew your parents. All will be explained, Kogane, but for now, rest. You have a lot to recover from.”

Keith held his breath, listening for the sounds of- something, anything. Footsteps, retreating, not coming closer. The soft _whoosh_ of a door opening and then closing. Keith was alone, but it took him a long time to unwind.

Once his heartbeat had settled, Keith lay back down, pulling the covers up to his nose like he used to as a kid. He turned over. He slept. Questions could come later.

 

This time when he woke up, the room was dimly lit by rows of soft orange strip lights in the ceiling. It gave the room a dreamy quality that Keith couldn’t enjoy. The room was barren aside from the pallet Keith lay on. Cautiously, he got up, the cold from the hard floor seeping up through the thin soles of his boots. He tugged at the collar of the suit, but it had almost no give, like a second skin. It wasn’t like he had anything to change into, anyway- so he padded across the floor to the tall door, pressing his ear to it to see if he could hear something, anything, that might tip him off to what he should be expecting if he left this room. He couldn’t make out a thing.

He worried his lip for a moment, before reaching over to the glowing green button that opened the door with a short sigh.

The next room wasn’t as bare as the last. Cut into the dark walls were shelves full of books and binders. The lights were brighter which made Keith squint until his eyes could adjust. There was a round table in the centre of the room, solid chairs surrounding it. Keith stepped lightly, looking over the spines of the books but none of them were in a language he could understand. The round table appeared to be full of black sand. Keith dragged one finger through it, drawing a line only to watch the sand close up over it again, the surface smooth. He frowned slightly, and traced out his name this time, and then watched the sand smooth over.

“It’s interesting, isn’t it?”

Keith nearly jumped out of his skin, his heart in his throat as he snapped his head up to stare at the doorway at the other end of the room, where a Galra man stood, his stance relaxed while Keith’s was not. The Galra seemed to laugh, stepping more into the light. Keith ground his teeth together.

“It’s alright, Kogane. You’re safe here.” The Galra made a placating gesture, slowly coming towards the table. Keith’s hands curled into fists.

“Where _is_ here?” Keith growled, sliding his feet wide, into a battle ready stance.

“You’re still in Heiress. We’re underground, there are few places left for our kind to hide.” The Galra came to stand opposite to Keith, the table between them. It was the closest Keith had ever been to a Galra. They were formidable, easily a foot taller than Keith with wide shoulders and a solid built. “You’re safer here than anywhere else, Kogane.”

The seconds drew out for a moment, Keith holding his breath without even realizing it. He stared the Galra down, noting that he was unarmed, and so he slowly unwound, breathing in and dropping out of his fighting stance. He scrubbed a hand over his eye, trying to wrap his mind around what appeared to be happening.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Thace. I’m a member of the Blade of Marmora, we are a resistance against the emperor Zarkon.”

“ _We_?” Keith frowned, glancing around the room though he knew they were alone. There was nothing around to give away the number of Galra he might be confronted with, aside from the four chairs set around the table. Four? Keith might be able to get through four, if he had to. He had taken down more Garrison guards not long ago at all.

“There are four of us here, we are almost all that remain.” Keith scrubbed his hands over his face again, his head spinning. He had never heard of any of this in all his training; this Blade of Marmora or emperor Zarkon. These things seemed pretty critical. But then again, how much faith did he really have in the Garrison anymore? They had all the means in the world to twist the narrative however they wanted. “I know this is confusing for you, Kogane. But we are on your side, we took you from the Garrison to keep you safe.”

Keith sat down heavily in one of the chairs, pushing his hands through his hair. “I don’t remember anything.”

“You’ve been asleep for two days.”

_Two days._

Keith stared down between his feet, his thoughts moving to Shiro as they always did. He’d been missing for two days- whether Shiro knew he’d never made it to the research facility or not, he would be going out of his mind, worried, angry, probably feeling helpless. And Keith had been asleep this whole time, dreaming. He wanted to see him. Thace sat down across from him, apparently reading Keith’s mind.

“You will be able to see your friends again. You’re not a prisoner here, but we have a lot to discuss.” Keith met his strange, yellow eyes, his gaze searching. “We need your help, Kogane.”

“My help? How can I help you?”

“As people have said, Kogane, you are unique. You are the only Galra-human hybrid in existence.” Thace explained, watching for Keith’s reaction. This wasn’t a complete shock to Keith, but he frowned as he thought.

“How can I be the only one? Humans and Galra had relationships before the war.”

“That’s very true. But it was discouraged that those couples had children together. There were always complications; the children died, usually the mother’s did as well. But you, you lived. Your mother passed, but you lived.”

“--Before. When you woke me up, you said you were my guardians?”

“Yes. Your mother was a member of the Blade of Marmora, so we knew when she passed, and we knew when you were born, Kogane. We followed you and your father to Heiress; you would not have been safe if your father had stayed where he was.”

“You…” Keith’s face was open, sadness and shock and a desperate need to know everything. “You knew my mother?”

“Yes.” Thace smiled, which looked rather odd on his severe, alien face. “I knew your mother very well. Kogane is the name she gave to you. That is your Galra name.”

“Dad told me it was mom’s last name.” Keith said, mostly to himself, his mouth tugged into a small smile. He repeated the name to himself softly; _Kogane_. “... But, what does that have to do with me helping you? The Garrison want to dissect me, I don’t… Have any resources of my own.”

“That is not entirely true, Kogane.” When Keith lifted his eyebrows in question, Thace continued. “It is not a coincidence that we’ve brought you here, that the Garrison wants you. It’s not a coincidence that your Galra identity has only just been discovered. Our kind has many attributes that humans do not, and yours are just now coming to the surface as you come to maturity. Most noticeably, the psychic link that our people share.”

“The migraines.” Keith let out a breath, wanting to be shocked by the idea but simply finding that it made sense. As much as any of this could. Keith was Galra. He had Galran attributes.

“Yes. It’s not uncommon for the psychic link to bring some discomfort as it develops, but because you are part human, it’s putting a strain on your mind and exasperating that discomfort.”

Discomfort seemed like an understatement. Keith had slept for _two days_ because of it.

“But you’ve been trying to contact me?”

“Only when necessary. When you were first detained, and before we intercepted the Garrison transport.”

“... No other time?” Keith asked cautiously, picking at his eyetooth with his thumb nail. “I’ve had two other migraines. One was really bad, I blacked out.”

Thace didn’t seem terribly alarmed by this, folding his arms across his broad chest and nodding. “Yes, well. The link doesn’t always break once one has passed away- if their emotions are strong enough, the connection will remain for a long time. The one who was contacting you was your mother, Kogane.” Keith dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He could have cried as easily as he could have laughed at the thought of his mother trying to reach him so desperately that it had come across like sirens going off in his head. Yelling at him from the grave. Lance would have ribbed him and given him a deadpanned: “ _moms._ ” Mrs. McClain had five kids though. Couldn’t blame her for having to yell to get them to pay attention.

“I still don’t understand. What do you need me to do?”

 

By the time everything had been explained to him, Keith was ready to sleep again. Thace let him, though not before making sure Keith ate something and drank a couple of glasses of water. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was until the water touched his tongue. And then he had climbed back into his pallet and pulled the blanket up over his head, letting his brain shut off, rather than combing everything over again and again.

He slept again for a long time, but it was nice to wake up without any feelings of panic, fear, caution. It was like waking up at home when he was a kid. Safe. He didn’t get up in a hurry, staring through his eyelashes at the opposite wall through the low orange lights. Dreamy. It was almost perfect, if only he weren’t alone.

When Keith left his bedroom, he found the following room fully occupied. Four Galra men were sat in the chairs around the round table. Thace was one of them, and Keith assumed the rest were the other members of the Blade of Marmora. He was right, and Thace introduced them in turn: Ulaz, Antok and Kolivan.

Kolivan was an intimidating, stony presence. He sat with his arms crossed, hooded but enough of his face exposed to reveal a long scar running down the side of his face. Antok was a masked figure, broad and strong and silent. He had simply nodded at Keith in recognition. Ulaz was the smallest of them, which wasn’t saying much. His pale hair was in a soft mohawk and he sat with a book in his lap. Thace was warm towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder as he introduced him.

It was strange to see Galra being affectionate when Keith had been told all his life that they were monsters incapable of such things.

They ate together, Keith gulping down glass after glass of water and wolfing down his food, now that he was calm enough to pay attention to his body’s needs. He wanted a cigarette and a shower and a change of clothes. He wanted to see Shiro. It had been nearly four days. It felt like a lifetime.

“Kogane?” It was Ulaz that addressed him, yanking him out of his introspect. Keith blinked widely up at him, questioning. “Speak. Something’s on your mind.”

“I want to see my friend.” Keith confessed, glancing from Ulaz to Thace. “Before I do anything else, I want to see him.”

 

Thace was true to his word: Keith wasn’t a prisoner. They agreed to let him leave, and in fact claimed they had a surprise for him. When he was led up to the surface, discovering that they were just outside of Heiress, the town looming in the distance, they revealed to him that he wasn’t the only thing they had stolen from the Garrison. Keith’s motobike came into view when Thace lay his hand on it, lifting away the cloaking device that had kept it safe and hidden, just like it kept their hiding spot safe.

It felt good to feel the bike’s engine growl to life underneath him, and Keith took a moment to bow his head against the handlebars before he thanked the Galra, and took off with a kick up of sand and pebbles. It wasn’t a long ride to his home, but Keith didn’t go there straight away. He needed to feel the wind on him, in his hair and stinging his cheeks, so he rode away from Heiress to where the roads were barren and he could go as fast as he wanted. The wind fought off the horrific heat that he had been away from for a few days.

It felt good. But seeing Shiro would feel better.

Keith pulled into the familiar cracked cement driveway, looking out over the barren lawn and porch. He could see the living room windows were open, the weak breeze ruffling the curtains ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was his home, and Keith was happy to see it.

He cut his bike’s engine, dismounting and crossing the lawn. At about the same time that he reached the porch, the front door swung open and Shiro was standing there, his expression so full of hope that it was heartbreaking, and then it turned into disbelief, and then completely unbridled relief and joy.

“Shiro.” Keith breathed, feeling a tremor run through him, lingering in his fingertips as he took the few steps it took to close the distance. Shiro reached for him immediately, pulling him close so that he could cup his cheek and check him over, searching frantically for any signs that Keith was hurt. He didn’t seem to believe it that he was completely untouched.

“I thought you were gone. I thought I wasn’t going to see you again- Keith- what happened?” He pressed their foreheads together, feeling Keith shake his head as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Later. I’ll tell you later. Please. I just… Just let me be here with you for now.” It was a soft plea that Shiro obliged, stepping back to lead Keith inside and kicking the door shut behind them.

“Okay. Okay, baby.” Shiro spoke against Keith’s lips, dropping tiny kisses against his bottom lip, corner to corner. Keith closed his eyes, his hands resting on the back of Shiro’s head. He would let Shiro take all the time in the world, he just wanted to feel him close.

Shiro kissed slow and lingering, tilting his head to deepen it when Keith whined low in the back of his throat, his lips parting. It was still slow, tongues sliding against one another, Shiro’s hand deep in Keith’s hair, matted from days of sleep. Shiro didn’t care.

They stopped in the hallway beside the door to Keith’s room, shedding Shiro’s shirt so that Keith could run his hand over his firm chest and the litter of shrapnel scars, which he kissed with warm lips. When Keith came back up, Shiro ran his thumb under his right eye, examining the hematoma that had receded down to a thin circle around his pupil.

“Your eye looks better.”

Shiro had been sleeping in Keith’s old bedroom. The mattress had been pulled off of the bed, blankets and pillows still messy from that morning, or whenever Shiro had gotten up.

“Missed me?” Keith laughed, glancing down at the arrangement. Shiro laughed right back at him, shrugging but not looking sheepish and then he pulled Keith down into the mess of blankets after him, letting them lie where they tumbled and pulling Keith back in close so that he could mouth down the pale column of his neck. Keith sighed, clinging to Shiro as he tipped his head back for more of the attention, but Shiro was stopped by the high collar of the suit.

“What are you wearing?” Shiro murmured, amused as he ran his hand over Keith’s shoulder to search out a way to get the suit off. Keith’s mouth twisted into a smile, and he pushed into Shiro until he had him on his back and Keith rolled into Shiro’s lap, thighs on either side of him.

“Don’t like it? It’s Garrison issue.” He scoffed, reaching back to unzip it but Shiro stopped him short.

“It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever worn.” Shiro mumbled, following the very visible lines of Keith’s body with his eyes. He tugged him forward, reaching around to grab the zipper tag and slowly pull it down along the curve of Keith’s back. It stopped just shy of the swell of his ass, which Shiro dragged his hand over just for the pleasure of it. “But I’ve always preferred you in nothing at all.”

Keith sat himself back up, arching his back to make his waist more prominent, his torso longer as he slowly peeled the suit off, hooking his fingers under the thin fabric once it was down to his waist, dragging it down to his hips. Shiro watched keenly, lips parted slightly at the teasing show being displayed, just for him. He ran his hand down Keith’s chest to where the suit sat across his hips, fingers splayed out to feel as much of the tense muscle as he could.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Keith murmured, as if a sarcastic remark would combat his furious blush. Keith slid himself down Shiro’s thighs, bowing down to kiss beneath his belly button, messy, open-mouthed, soft down the dark trail of hair there, which made Shiro sigh. Keith’s fingers worked at the button and fly of Shiro’s jeans and he lifted his hips so that could be dragged down his thighs, relieving the tension on his cock, hard and twitching for attention. Keith smirked slightly, quirking an eyebrow. “Definitely missed me.”

“You’re still wearing a lot of clothes.”

Keith ignored him, choosing instead to pull Shiro’s underwear down past his hips with a soft groan at the way his cock bounced free, up against his stomach. The pace was slowly burning up. Keith ran his tongue flat along the shaft, flicking just the tip under the head that got a very particular and endearing sound out of Shiro as he reached down to brush Keith’s hair out of his face. The way Keith curled his tongue around the head of his cock made Shiro lose his mind a little, and gasped when he took him into his mouth, sucking lightly, bobbing his head and taking in a little more with each movement. Shiro’s grip tightened, and Keith hummed around him, hollowing his cheeks to make sure every inch of Shiro felt the vibration it created.

“ _Fuck_ \- baby, come here.” Shiro breathed, tugging gently and Keith pulled off, his lips glossy with saliva and precome. He crawled up him obediently, lying down against Shiro as they kissed warmly, Shiro sucking on Keith’s lip until he whined. “Take the suit off.”

The order come out as a low growl that made Keith shiver. He reached his hands down, shoving the suit down his thighs as far as he could reach. Shiro ran his hand down Keith’s side, splaying his fingers out over his ass to squeeze, press his nails into the skin.

“Please, Shiro, I want you-” Keith keened, arching his hand back into the touch. Shiro had never been able to deny Keith a thing, from the moment they had met properly at Lance’s birthday party. He had captured Shiro’s attention even when he was drunk and glassy. The way he had crooned bluesy songs against his ear and rolled his head back as he danced. Even his insistent, hurried kiss that made their teeth clack together had made Shiro melt. Keith had him wrapped around his finger.

Shiro leaned up to kiss Keith to distract him from his hand leaving his ass, sliding over his hip so that his hand was between them. Shiro curled his hand around the both of them, biting Keith’s lip gently as he slowly dragged his hand from base to tip. They groaned together, Keith rolling his hips into Shiro’s tight grip, matching the slow pace but not without noisy complaints that Shiro simply swallowed down, laughing against his mouth. Keith sat himself up, his hands on Shiro’s chest as he stared him down, grinding into Shiro’s hand, sliding against his cock and Shiro gave in, gradually stroking faster until Keith was the one controlling it, snapping his hips forward as he panted, feeling the sweat rolling down to the small of his back, from the summer heat and being so close to another person. For once, it felt like bless rather than stifling.

They were getting close fast, the pace losing its discipline and Keith fell forward into kisses and then back again to toss his head back, torn between what he wanted, grinding down into Shiro’s hand. He whined Shiro’s name, dropping forward again to rub his face against Shiro’s shoulder, and Shiro kissed whatever part of him he could reach; his shoulder, neck, cheek, murmuring praise and sweet nothing’s between Keith’s name. When they came, they came together, shaking and whispering each other’s name.

They wound down slowly, Keith only moving off of Shiro when the heat made cuddling unsustainable. He kicked the last of the suit off, stretching out on the sheets to cool down. The quiet between them was peaceful, Shiro absently stroking the back of his fingers down Keith’s arm. Minutes passed before Shiro spoke up.

“Do you want to talk about it yet?”

“Not yet.” Keith said quietly, turning his head to face Shiro. He reached out to stroke Shiro’s cheek, tracing the line of the scar across his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kid.” Shiro replied softly, and both of them knew it was a confession long overdue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slowing down from now on! This is the last chapter I had written up in my journals, so now I'll be writing fresh!  
> Bear with me :*!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few quiet moments, a plan, the calm before the storm.
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.historicalmarinette.tumblr.com)

“Hey, Shiro?” Keith was standing in the bedroom door, a towel around his waist and his hair still dripping water onto his shoulders. Shiro stirred where he had dozed off, blinking up at Keith with a questioning little grunt. “I don’t have any clothes to change into.” Shiro scrunched his face up, rubbing his eye as he made himself wake up enough to be coherent. “And we only have the bike.”

Shiro sat himself up and Keith stepped forward so that Shiro could wrap his arm around his thighs, resting his cheek against Keith’s stomach. “We’ll both go. You can borrow some of my clothes, they’ll be a bit big, but.”

Keith hummed quietly, petting Shiro’s hair with a smile at the easy affection. “That’s fine.”

Keith was not a particularly vain person, not someone who preened or coordinated his outfits. He knew he was attractive by some standards, but he didn’t really care. That being said, dressed in Shiro’s sweatpants that bunched up considerably at his ankles, a t-shirt at least a size too big and the soft black boots from the Garrison suit… Keith was starting to feel a little self-conscious. Shiro’s barely concealed laughter didn’t help, but when Keith huffed and swatted at him, it only made Shiro laugh hard enough that he couldn’t hold it back at all, rocking back in a dining room chair. Between deep breaths, he insisted that he still found Keith cute, which made him scowl deeply. Shiro was a little more composed by the time he was on the back of the motorbike, his hand resting on Keith’s hip as he kicked the engine to life and they rode towards the citadel.

Heiress seemed to exist in a void. It was miles away from any other town, and in Keith’s twenty years of living there, it hadn’t changed at all. It had always looked like an old town even though it wasn’t, shop signs faded and everything in dusky shades that complimented the shades of yellows and browns from the desert. At this time of year, the streets were pretty quiet. Kids were in school, the cadets had returned to the Garrison for the semester. All that was left were the parents of those kids, most of them working on the main strip of Heiress or persevering the heat to get their errands done before three o’clock. The sun wasn’t even at its apex yet, but it didn’t really make a difference during the dog days.

Keith pulled the motorbike into the parking lot of the grocery store, crown jewel of the strip, because it wasn’t entirely visible from the road. There was no need to draw any more attention to themselves than Keith’s outfit was going to. He cut the engine to the bike, leaning back against Shiro’s chest, wiping his brow and staring up at him.

“Clothes first.”

Keith walked with his head ducked down and his arms crossed over his chest, trying very hard to master the art of vanishing. Shiro didn’t help at all, his hand in his jeans pocket and his grin poorly concealed. If Keith wasn’t trying to spontaneously combust, he would have ribbed Shiro for being so smarmy. At least someone was having fun.

Keith relaxed once they stepped into the clothes store, hit by the air conditioning and the ambient music playing quietly. There was no one else but the shop assistant, who had looked up with a smile at first, then she stared at Keith for a moment too long and went back to folded shirts. Keith b-lined for the shelves of jeans to one side, finding his size in black and grabbing a couple of pairs. Shiro was milling around the racks, gradually falling into easy conversation with the sales assistant, and she was happier to see him than Keith, who had grabbed a few of t-shirts off a table and headed into the changing rooms.

He stripped out of the borrowed clothes, sparing himself a minute glance in the full length mirror on the back wall of the cubicle. He looked a little thinner than usual, and there was a smattering of bruises that he didn’t know how he got. His eye was looking better, his dark iris bordered by a thin rim of red. He rubbed at his arms for a moment, before pulling on a t-shirt and wriggling into the dark jeans, feeling more like himself than he had in a long time. The shirt he had grabbed was thin, grey cotton with a vintage coca-cola logo across his chest. He had grabbed it blindly, but he liked it.

“Keith?” Shiro knocked on the changing room door so Keith pulled it open, the borrowed clothes balled up in his arms and the extra shirts and pair of jeans Keith had grabbed laid on top. Shiro smiled at him, wolf-whistling lowly. Keith rolled his eyes, but didn’t resist when Shiro leaned in to kiss his forehead. “You look good. Let’s go settle up.”

Keith yanked the tags off of his clothes, handing them over for the shop assistant to scan with the rest of the items. She gave them a bag for old clothes, and Keith tossed a pair of sunglasses onto a counter with the rest of his things. Shiro paid, slipping Keith’s sunglasses up into his hair and then taking the bags in his hand, thanking the lady with a warm smile and following Keith out. 

“What do you think?” Shiro asked, knocking the glasses down onto his nose, his polite smile now a bright grin. Keith reached up and plucked them off of Shiro’s face, sliding them on. “No?”

“Not cool enough, babe.”

Grocery shopping with Shiro with all that Keith now knew about the world, the war they had both dedicated huge chunks of their lives to, his Galra heritage, his mother-- it was surreal. It was like sliding into an alternate timeline where none of those things mattered, and they were just two young men who loved each other and argued about what kind of cereal to get.

Keith was leaning down heavy across the cart handle, turning a loose apple over and over again in his hand while Shiro tried to decide what cheese he wanted to get.

“We don’t have a fridge, we shouldn’t even be getting perishables.” Keith pointed out, resting his cheek against his arm. 

“Oh. No, the house is on the grid. We have power.” Shiro said over his shoulder, and Keith raised his eyebrows in question. “I’ll tell you later. What do you want for dinner?”

Keith shrugged, happier to just watch Shiro make hard decisions about cheese than really engage. This was the kind of stuff he daydreamed about a year ago, domestic bliss with Heiress’ hero. He had never thought it was a possibility, though- not many people came back from war, especially when it seemed like the war would never end. Maybe it would be different soon. Keith’s eyes were on the apple in his hand, looking but not seeing. Shiro had gotten his decision down to the final two contenders, eventually dropping the winner into the cart and reaching to ruffle Keith’s hair to pull him out of his introspect. He smiled at him, curling his fingers around the front of the cart to steer them up the aisle, Keith’s feet dragging.

“Where were you, space cadet?” Shiro asked, adding a bottle of milk to the cart.

“I was just thinking,” Keith said, looking over the brightly lit fridges and the contents. “That this is pretty nice. Doing boring shit with you.”

Shiro turned the cart into the next aisle and the new deliberation began over pasta sauce. Shiro was fastidious to the point where it was amusing. “Yeah, it is nice. It’ll be even better when you’re not worrying so much.” Keith smiled at that, straightening up to pick a jar of sauce off the shelf.

“This one’s good.”

When they got home, Shiro unpacked the groceries while Keith set about getting the old air conditioning unit to work, now that he knew that they had power. There was a steady stream of curses and grumbling, but eventually he got the unit to rattle to life, coughing up dust into the living room but eventually it was nothing but clean, cold air. He cooked lunch then and they ate together at the dining room table. Keith finally got a nicotine hit around mouthfuls of bolognese, lighting up a second cigarette once his bowl was empty and pushed away from him. Shiro ate a little slower, tapping his fork against his bottom lip every now and again as he seemed to glaze over in thought. Keith slumped down in his seat, enough that he could nudge at Shiro’s feet with his.

“Gonna tell me now?” He asked once he had Shiro’s attention, blinking through the smoke he exhaled. “What’s eating Takashi Shirogane?”

“That is a truly ancient reference.” Shiro pointed out, waving his fork at Keith before dropping it into his food. “You haven’t told me anything, either.”

“You first.” Keith said with a small tight smile, ashing his cigarette into his empty bowl. Shiro shifted, tucking his feet away from where Keith could reach them, so Keith sat up straight again. Shiro scratched his hand through his undercut.

“I only found out a couple of days ago that you hadn’t made it to the research facility. I haven’t been allowed back on Garrison grounds since the night you were taken, so Allura has been feeding me whatever information she can get. She also helped getting this place back on the grid. She’s been doing anything she can to help.” Shiro sighed, and Keith had a feeling he knew what was coming next. His throat restricted. “Allura was also the one who turned you over to the Garrison in the first place. She came here once you were gone. We argued. She realized the mistake she’d made- said she’d help anyway she could, which hasn’t really been a lot, but I guess that’s not her fault.”

Shiro spoke with a level of venom Keith had never heard, seeping under the surface of his words. Shiro was angry. Keith was hurt. The pain was a dull thud in his chest that came after realizing that he wasn’t surprised to find this out. Even after Allura had assured him she didn’t think he was a monster- how could she be friends with someone who shared genetics with the people who had destroyed her planet. Their years of friendship had quickly become empty. He picked at his tooth with his thumbnail, nodding a little. 

“She didn’t tell you why I never made it to the facility?”

“No. She had just heard that you had vanished. No one knew where you’d gone.” Shiro explained, his voice gone soft like it might be a delicate topic. Keith nodded again, refocusing his eyes on Shiro whose jaw was set, his mouth a grave line.

“The transport I was in was intercepted by a group called the Blade of Marmora.” Shiro shook his head ‘no’; he had never heard the name before. “They’re a resistance group. They’re Galra, and they want to bring down the Galra empire.”

“There are Galra in Heiress?”

“Under Heiress.” Keith explained, “When my mother was still alive, she was a member. When she died, the remaining members took to watching over me until I reach maturity- now- and I started showing signs of my Galra heritage.”

“Signs?” Shiro frowned, looking Keith over like he was expecting to notice something. Ears, splotches of purple. Of course, none of those things were there. Keith signed hard, and tried to explain to Shiro the psychic link as clearly as he could. It took a while. Keith backtracked and rephrased things. He lit another cigarette once he thought he’d done his best to explain.

“So, you can read minds.”

“Only Galra minds and… Not yet, not really.” Keith licked his lips. They’d already been over this but Shiro was trying to wrap his head around it. “Since I’m part human, the ability isn’t meshing too well with my biology, so right now any contact just sounds like sirens going off in my head. All the migraines, that night when I dug up the knife- full-blown psychic meltdowns, basically. But apparently it’ll get a little more bearable the more often I experience it, if I focus in on it.”

Shiro slumped in his seat, pushing his hair back from his face as he let out a long exhale. “Okay. Psychic boyfriend. I guess I can handle that.”

Keith managed to laugh at that, taking a moment to appreciate Shiro for who he was. In the last week he’d been thrown right into the middle of Keith’s mess. He’d been told Keith was a fugitive, and then he’d watched him tear up floorboards in a blackout state in the middle of the night. Shiro had come to terms with Keith’s Galra heritage, then he’d lost him and been banned from Garrison grounds. All he’d been able to do for days was wait. And here he was, rolling with the punches still. Keith loved him. He told him that.

“I love you, too.” Shiro smiled, and then he seemed to have interest in his food again, finishing off the last of the pasta.

Keith were washing the dishes when his head suddenly felt like someone was drilling a blunt object into his temple. The bowl in his hand hit the floor and shattered, the sound amplified infinitely in Keith’s ears as he clutched at the sides of his head, gasping in the abrupt pain. Shiro was at his side fast, cupping his cheek to crowd into his sightline, looking him over.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Keith shook him off, squinting up at him. Shiro took a moment, making a soft ‘oh’ when he realized. “Someone’s trying to get a hold of you, huh?”

Keith nodded, offering Shiro a tense smile as he stepped past him, heading over to the front door, his instinct proving to be right. When he opened the door, two members of the Blade of Marmora were standing on the porch, which registered as ridiculous in Keith’s head- two Galra standing on his old porch among the empty flowerpots and the aging wood. A perfectly human setting. He let them in, and they had to duck to get through the doorframe. When Shiro saw them, he instinctively threw his arm out in front of Keith, backing him up a few paces. His protectiveness stung a little, after what Keith had just told him.

“Shiro- these are the ones who saved me. It’s okay.” He looked pleadingly at him, one hand on Shiro’s arm. It took a moment, a critical eye running over their guests, before Shiro slowly lowered his arm, murmuring an apology.

“So you’ve explained things to him?” Thace asked while he and Shiro stared each other down. Keith frowned slightly, but let them do whatever they needed to be comfortable. 

“Some things.” Keith offered up, and just for something to do to separate himself from the tension Keith went into the kitchen to pick up the broken bits of china on the linoleum. “Not anything about what you asked of me.”

“What?” Shiro frowned further, breaking his stare down with Thace to look at Keith. “What did they ask you to do?”

Keith pressed his lips together, gathering up the last of the broken bowl and placing it on the bench. “We should all sit down. Let’s talk about it.”

“The information the Garrison has been providing Earth with for all these years is wrong. This isn’t intentional deceit; they are only gathering what information they can find as they fight. But they have not uncovered the man behind this war. Emperor Zarkon is a false leader of the Garla, but he has gained enough support to start many wars, Earth is only the latest in a long line.” Thace was explaining, Keith was smoking, already aware of all of this. Shiro was rapt by this new knowledge, frowning in focus as he took it in. He seemed willing to believe, which was all Keith could really ask for. He must have been biting back his question for now, rather than interrupting the narrative.

“Zarkon is a coward, though. He never brings himself to the front line. He makes his plans far from the fight, and has his generals act out his will. The Garrison has taken down many of his generals but the war has barely faltered. They are only puppets. We are few in number now, but with Kogane’s help, we believe we’ll be able to destroy Zarkon once and for all.”

“How? If Zarkon is in deep space, we have no way of getting to him-”

“We will need the Garrison’s cooperation, however we can get it. The Blade of Marmora members here on earth are all on Zarkon’s radar. We cannot go near his ship without him picking up on our psychic imprint- Kogane is young, his abilities are weak, so his imprint is nearly impossible to pick up for those who do not know what they’re looking for.”

“You want Keith to be the one to take Zarkon down.” Shiro said, looking at Keith but the glance wasn’t returned.

“He’s out best option. He’s a skilled fighter and Zarkon will not see him coming. We have spies within Zarkon’s ranks, they can take him to his ship and direct him through it.

“Won’t Zarkon… Pick up on them?”   
“Possibly, but only if he turns his focus in on his own ship. Even if he does, though, Kogane will already be aboard.” Ulaz explained, but it didn’t placate Shiro in the least.

“It sounds extremely risky. I don’t like it.”

“It’s our only chance. Kogane is the only one of us who can get close to Zarkon.” 

“But he could be killed.” Shiro’s voice rose, his shoulders tensing up. “I don’t like it. It’s a weak plan.”

“Shiro,” Keith turned in his seat to face him, reaching out to lay his hand over Shiro’s. “I’ve already made up my mind. If I can defeat him, and this war comes to end, then I don’t care what happens to me. It’ll be worth it. You know that.” Shiro made a pained expression, mouth opening to protest, but Keith was right. One death to save thousands of lives- most people would say it was worth it. The Garrison would.

“If you go, I’m going with you.” Keith set his jaw, but he couldn’t say no, either. He was brave, but not so brave that he could do this mission alone. It was selfish but if he was going to die, he didn’t want to die alone, and he couldn’t argue with Shiro about what he wanted to do. They had the right to make up their own minds. They would do this together. Keith squeezed Shiro’s hand gently and kept it there.

“How are we going to get the Garrison’s cooperation?”

The Galra did not have the answer to that, obviously hoping that it was something Shiro and Keith could figure out between them. Keith tapped a finger against Shiro’s knuckle. “What about Allura?”

Allura was their best option. She was their only connection to the higher ranks of the Garrison- Keith refused to bring his other friends into it. And Allura probably had enough guilt from turning Keith over that she would at least hear them out. Storming the Garrison wasn’t going to get them listened to, but if Allura was able to deliver them right to Iverson’s door, maybe. Maybe. Shiro only had to send her a message, ask her to come over.

Shiro found Keith in his old bedroom, leaning back against the white dresser with his arms folded over his chest, eyes fixed on the window. As always, it was hot in this room but he didn’t resist Shiro crowding in on him. He tipped his head back, meeting Shiro’s eye. They kissed lightly, Keith’s arms unfolding so he could rest his hands on Shiro’s narrow waist.

“Are you sure about this?” Keith asked quietly, “You’re right, it’s risky.”

“I’m following you anywhere you go from now on, Keith. I’m finally back after a year, and all we’ve done since is disappear on one another. I’m staying beside you.” Shiro smiled, and Keith leaned into him, hugging him close.

Allura arrived around sundown, knocking on the door and looking faintly anxious when Shiro answered it and let her in. Keith was the first person she saw, her mouth falling open in shock that he was there, and Keith watched the internal struggle she faced- glad to see him, ashamed at her actions, unsure if Keith even knew. It was Keith who smiled first, touching her arm lightly. He didn’t quite want to hug her yet, but he didn’t resent her. Her smile was shaky, and she nodded slightly. 

And then she saw the Galra, and her response was violent, she jerked back towards the door and seemed to be strangled on her words. Shiro brought his hand down on her shoulder, telling her to be calm.

Explaining to her who Thace and Ulaz and the Blade of Marmora were took a long time, and even when she seemed to understand she still radiated hostility, sitting upright with her arms folded over her chest, as far away from the two Galra as possible. Even as they elaborated on Zarkon, she seemed stiff with doubt. But Shiro was right to have counted on her guilt; when Shiro explained that they needed a way into the Garrison, she didn’t immediately say no. Shiro sweetened it by saying that if the Galra were dangerous, than she would be taking them to the best place for them. Keith reminded her that she had been wrong about him. Allura folded easily after that. It wasn’t right to play on her emotions like that, but in the grand scheme of things it was a necessary evil.

Keith had never lived in a time where it was acceptable for Galra to exist in his world, so watching Thace and Ulaz climb into the back seat of Allura’s jeep felt a surreal, out of body experience. They were equally as perturbed by the situation, and Allura’s grip on her steering wheel was white-knuckled but the back windows of her jeep were tinted, so the Galra wouldn’t be immediately obvious. Keith and Shiro decided to take the bike, following behind the jeep as they headed through Heiress, a city coming to life now that the sun was down and the kids were out of school. The jeep and Keith’s motorbike didn’t draw any attention, just traffic passing through to the Garrison.

They drew attention when they pulled into the Garrison, through the main gate and parking up near the main building rather than turning into the garage. It was Keith first that had cadets and staff alike coming to a standstill on the asphalt, forgetting where it was they were heading before a wanted fugitive and dismissed war veteran had arrived on a motorbike, cutting the engine and dismounting like they belonged where they were. No one seemed to know what to do with themselves, murmurs flittering around the square. Keith glanced around, his expression hard like he was daring someone to come and apprehend them. They were about to be the least of their problems. Allura jumped down out of her jeep, throwing Shiro an apprehensive look over her shoulder before she stepped around to open the back door closest to the building’s main entrance. If it were possible for the square to get any quieter, it did. No whispers, the hard silence of fear was all that was left. The Galra were pointedly unarmed and compliant, but it wasn’t going to make much of a difference. Everyone simply watched, stunned, and Allura led them all into the main building, through the foyer and up the wide hallway to the elevator. 

“It’s very quiet.” Thace noted, addressing no one in particular.

“This is the training facility. We’re prepared for a full on assault, but two Galra just walking in? Security here is mostly trained to make sure cadets are in bed by curfew.” Keith said, shrugging lightly and no one commented on whether or not that was a good thing. Right now, it was making their lives easy. The brushed steel doors slid open onto the familiar grey hallway and hard furniture. Allura shouldered her way out first, the Galra followed, and Keith and Shiro looked to each other for a moment before trailing after. Keith was out of his depth here- he had no idea how to breach this to Iverson, to explain to him why he had brought two Galra into the heart of the Garrison facility, and why they were their best chance at winning the war. Shiro took his hand, seeming to sense his rising anxiety. The casual touch helped a little, like an anchor that kept Keith tethered to his body.

Crowding into Iverson’s office made Keith feel like he was in high school again and he was getting dragged in by the ear with the kid he had been fighting with, ready for the punishment, for the warning and the frustration the principle threw at him. Shiro was still holding his hand. Allura had gone in ahead of all of them, standing beside the desk with a carefully neutral expression. Iverson had been prepped, but obviously seeing was believing and he looked like someone had boxed him around the ears. His gaze darted from one face to another and if Keith didn’t know better, he would suspect that that was fear in Iverson’s eyes. On his desk, there was a small blaster within reach. Not completely unprepared.

“I’m giving you five minutes to give me good reason not to have you all arrested.”

They told him everything. 

Keith and Shiro were eventually dismissed; the Galra were asked to stay. The moment the door slid shut behind Keith, he doubled over, his hands on his knees as he took in a shaky breath, overwhelmed by relief and shock. He straightened up, leaning back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling. Shiro was sitting on the bench next to him, watching him quietly.

“At least he doesn’t want to dissect you anymore.”

“For now.” Keith laughed, rolling his head to the side to meet Shiro’s eye. “Kind of weird to be back here. I’d never planned to come back.”

“Me neither.” Shiro confessed slumping down. “I was ready to walk away from the Garrison entirely. But if we can end all of this, I guess being back isn’t so bad.”

“I wonder what Iverson is asking Thace and Ulaz. Reckon they’re safe?”

“Two Galra against one human? I wouldn’t worry about them. He’s probably just digging for as much information as he can before he makes a decision.”

“Mm. He did say we’d find out in the morning.” Keith murmured, mostly to himself, scratching under his chin. “Come on, I want bad cafeteria coffee.”

There were some cadets still sitting at tables in the cafeteria despite dinner having already been served and cleared away. Keith brought two paper cups of coffees over to the table Shiro picked out, aware of the eyes on them as he sat down, his chair scraping on the linoleum as he shuffled closer to the table. Their knees knocked together under the table, and Keith tore open two sugar packets and dumped them into the cup, stirring and then watching the greasy film on the surface spin. Even with sugar the coffee was bitter, strong, the brew affectionately called jet fuel by the cadets who drank it by the gallon during exam week. Sustenance. Keith and Shiro drank together in amiable silence, Keith’s foot hooked around Shiro’s heel. This was another thing they had done together before Shiro had left, drinking coffee at odd hours of the night and then they would spar until it was burnt out of their system. They had a lot of little rituals, when Keith really thought about it. Most of them took place on the training deck which had felt like it belonged to them in the nighttimes. They were never disturbed there, though they had had to hit the floor to avoid the security guards quite often. Shiro had more than once had to cover Keith’s mouth to stop him from laughing too loudly.

Eventually, they finished their coffees and the straggling cadets cleared out. They stayed where they were, Keith’s head resting on Shiro’s shoulder when they heard footsteps coming towards them, neither of them looking up. Allura dropped into the seat across from them, stacking their empty paper cups simply to have something to do.

“Iverson found accommodation for the Galra. They have security on them but only as a precaution.” She started without prompt, pulling her hair down out of its ponytail and shaking out the bedraggled curls. “Shiro, you still have access to your room. I’m assuming Keith is welcome to share it with you. We’ll be called to Iverson’s office in the morning, and he’ll give us his decision, and we’ll move forward from there.”

Shiro nodded slowly, “Thank you. I appreciate you sticking your neck out for us.”

“I know you wouldn’t have done this unless you really believed that it could lead to the end of the war. We all want that, by any means.”

“That’s right.” Keith said, glancing up at her. “We just want this to end.”

Allura nodded, threading her fingers together on the table and staring down at them. “Keith… I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I was scared. All I understood of the Galra was what I saw them do to my people-”

“It’s okay. I get it, and if you hadn’t, we might not be here right now. Don’t worry about it anymore.”

Allura seemed placated. She left the cafeteria first, and Shiro roused Keith and got him to his feet. “Come on, baby. You’ve had a long day.”

Keith had laughed and been entirely unhelpful when Shiro decided to take it upon himself to get Keith’s jeans off of him so they could get into bed. Keith just lay on his back, legs hung over the edge of the bed as he giggled and squirmed the more frustrated Shiro got with him. Serves him right. But, to his credit, Shiro did manage it. Keith threw his t-shirt off as well, crawling up to claim his spot on the narrow dorm bed. Shiro stripped down to his undergarments, flopping down beside him and they fell into an easy, comfortable position, Keith’s head on Shiro’s chest and his leg thrown across his hip. The caffeine was strong in their system, and after a moment of laying wide awake in the dark, Shiro grabbed his tablet off the bedside table and found something for them to watch.

Keith nearly made it to the end of the movie, but when his breathing evened out and his hand relaxed on Shiro’s chest, it was clear he was deep under. Shiro turned the screen off and set the tablet aside so that he could run his hand through Keith’s hair gently, bending forward enough to kiss his crown. He always liked to see Keith peacefully resting, especially when they were standing on the precipice of a battle.

Something deep in Shiro’s chest told him that all hell was about to break lose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author was going to write plot but wrote porn instead. Keith gets to see his friends again (after the porn.)

They didn’t get an answer the following morning. Instead Iverson wanted to meet the other members of the Blades of Marmora to discuss the details further and to size them up, Keith imagined. It wasn’t a hard no; no one was being detained. There was still a chance they would get to do this.

Keith stood out in the square, watching the main gate roll open with his arms folded tensely over his chest. He was drawing attention from the cadets milling around who stared at him and then whispered to one another before they were hurried along by tutors and staff who knew they weren’t meant to be there. Keith ground his teeth, watching the transport roll into the square carrying Thace, Ulaz, Kolivan and Antok. He wondered if their hideout had been exposed to the Garrison now, which made him nervous for if things went south. He felt an underpinning distrust in the Garrison, at the back of his mind he was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from underfoot. Again.

The transport came to a stop near the main door, two Garrison guards jumping down from the cab to open up the back of the truck and let the Galra out. The square had been cleared out by now, it was just Keith left standing there. The Galra seemed relaxed, and they weren’t shackled and they didn’t have blasters trained on them, though the guards were armed. As they approached the door, Thace reached out to rest his hand atop Keith’s hand in a display of affection he hadn’t expected, but wasn’t against. It was better than getting a migraine from him trying to psychically calm him. Keith smiled slightly and nodded, and fell into step behind them all. He didn’t go up to Iverson’s office with them, instead stepping off the elevator at the dorm levels.

Shiro was fresh out of the shower when Keith entered their room. Shiro smiled at him, rubbing his hair dry with a towel which left it standing on end. Keith laughed a little, dropping down onto the bed.

“Everything went well?” Shiro dropped the damp towel over Keith’s head, and Keith didn’t move it, listening to the sound of the closet sliding open and Shiro finding what he wanted to wear.

“Yeah, they’re with Iverson now. They cleared the square before they arrived, so no one saw anything.” When Shiro lifted the towel off of his face, he was dressed and had run his fingers through his hair so it was a little tamer. The towel got dropped to the floor and Shiro climbed on the bed, leaning over Keith and looking down at him thoughtfully. Keith traced Shiro’s jaw with a fingertip, sighing as he dropped his hand. “It’s just a waiting game now.”

“You’re chomping at the bit, huh?” Shiro murmured, lowering himself down onto his elbow, cheek in his palm. “Things like this often take a lot of preparation. Better get used to waiting around.”

Keith groaned from the back of his throat but nodded, knowing Shiro was right. After all, he actually had experience in this area. He’d gone out on missions. He’d fought this fight. Up until recently, Keith had been trying to walk away from it. Things had only changed because it turned out he had a foot on either side of the line. He must have been making a face, because Shiro made an effort to kiss it away. He was successful.

“What’d you do to kill time?” Keith murmured against Shiro’s jaw.

“Well,” Shiro shrugged, “Mostly I just trained. Worked out.”

Keith hummed, turning onto his back and swinging one leg off of the bed. “The training deck is probably in use. Classes and stuff.”

“Yeah, probably.” Shiro agreed, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Keith smirked at him, admiring his handsome face colored mischief before he climbed off the bed, getting up to activate the lock on the door. Shiro was waiting for Keith to climb into his lap, sat up on the bed with his feet on the floor. Keith could take a hint, resting his knees on either side of Shiro’s hips. “We could spar.”

“I’d feel bad for beating up a cripple.” Keith teased, catching Shiro’s wrist when he tried to shove him.

“It’d be the only way you’re able to beat me, what was the score again?” Shiro twisted his hand in Keith’s grip, which remained unrelenting. He _pouted_ . It was fucking _adorable_. Keith adjusted their grip, lacing their fingers together and leaning in to kiss Shiro’s bottom lip, smiling when he pressed into it, parting his lips and dragging his tongue along the seam of Keith’s mouth. The hint was taken. Keith opened his mouth into the kiss, letting Shiro take the lead by sliding his tongue along Keith’s and flicking it up against the roof of his mouth playfully. Keith pulled himself further up Shiro’s lap, arching his back so that their hips slotted together perfectly and then Shiro’s hand was in his hair and that set them alight. Grinding, moaning, fucking their tongues into each other’s mouths until the layers between them felt like walls instead. Keith put his hands against Shiro’s chest and pushed distance between them, panting slightly.

“How far can we go?”

“As far as you want,” Shiro tried to do away with the distance, but Keith held him there and waited for the long answer. “Got everything we need, baby. Top drawer.”

Keith grinned and pulled off his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder and revelling in the way Shiro ate up the sight of him, eyes raking from his collarbones, down his chest and taut stomach, his hips that were still as sharp as the first time they’d tumbled into Shiro’s bed together. Shiro dragged his thumb down one hip bone, pressing in firmly above the waistband of his jeans. He followed the line of the waistband until he reached the fine trail of dark hair beneath Keith’s belly button. Shiro spread his fingers out over his skin, stroking lightly which made Keith laugh and his stomach tense.

“Ticklish?”

“Did you forget?” Keith chuckled, his hands resting on Shiro’s thighs behind him, happy to just be admired for now. They had time. He wasn’t in a rush to have Shiro inside him, frantic to be touched to anchor him. Shiro quirked a smile at him, and showed off how good he’d gotten at undoing jeans single handedly. It was a touch of relief for Keith, who was half hard and regretting his penchant for tight jeans because of it. Shiro slid his hand around to the small of his back, wriggling his fingers under the fabric so that he could have a handful of Keith’s ass while he nosed under his jaw, tilting his head to press fluttering kisses along the sharp slant of Keith’s jawline, up towards the lobe of his ear that he tugged at gently with his teeth. Keith sighed, lulling his head to the side and curling his hand into the back of Shiro’s shirt, gathering up the fabric in his fist. Shiro’s kisses were open-mouthed and firm, he sucked gently as he pulled off of each one, moving down the column of Keith’s throat methodically which made Keith whimper soft and sweetly. It only took a suggestion of movement from Shiro’s hand firm on Keith’s ass to make him roll his hips forward, moving in slow, controlled grinds against Shiro’s.

“You’re so good, baby.” Shiro murmured against Keith’s collarbone before he sucked the skin red, popping blood vessels as an affectionate reminder. Keith moaned, rubbing his cheek against Shiro’s temple as his hands mapped out the planes of his body through the fabric of his shirt. Shiro took the hint, spotting a few more kisses over Keith’s chest before pulling away, dragging his nails along Keith’s skin as he withdrew his hand so that his shirt could be removed, tossed aside and it was Keith’s turn to do what he wanted.

Shiro hit the mattress with a laugh, folding his arm under his head to watch Keith bow  to kiss down Shiro’s sternum, his hands on either side of his head, dragging down the warm skin, his thumbs rubbing over Shiro’s nipples until he got a reaction, and then he moved on, feeling those shrapnel scars again, playing connect the dots while his mouth paid its respects to the glory that was Shiro’s well formed abdomen, the defined cut lines that helpfully led him right down to where he wanted to be. Keith could show off as well, using teeth and tongue to get the front of Shiro’s jeans undone, nosing them open with an appreciative purr at how hard Shiro was, precome dampening his underwear. Keith made it worse, laving his tongue against Shiro’s cock through the fabric until it was soaked through and clinging to him. Shiro had covered his eyes, his teeth sunk into his lip to keep him quiet.

Keith settled down between Shiro’s knees, pulling his jeans and soaked underwear down past his hips and that had Shiro’s attention, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, heavy lidded eyes watching the way Keith walked his fingers up his thigh, the action playful until they passed the crease of his thigh and strut their little path to the base of his dick. Shiro huffed out short and sharp through his nose, worrying his lip as Keith’s fine fingers curled around his shaft and gave a slow, short stroke like he was testing him. Shiro’s lip quirked, and Keith smiled around the kiss he pressed under the head of his cock. Keith’s dark, smouldering gaze made Shiro groan just as much as the kiss; he had forgotten how fucking _good_ Keith looked like this, in control of himself as he set about unravelling Shiro with his pretty, sharp mouth and confident hands. He’d always been confident, never intimidated in the face of someone more experienced than him. Not just in sex; in sparring, piloting, anything and everything. Shiro loved him, loved him enough to be waxing poetic about him when his mouth was parting against the sensitive skin of his cock.

The tip of Keith’s tongue ran a warm streak up Shiro’s cock, curling his tongue around the head in a way that made Shiro nearly go cross-eyed, crooning Keith’s name with a breathy laugh. Keith hummed quietly, his eyes fixed on Shiro’s as he took the first inch of him into his mouth, his fingers firmly wrapped around the base of him. His eyes fluttered shut on the third inch, sucking gently as he bobbed his head in an easy rhythm that Shiro tried very hard not to buck up into, letting himself fall back onto the mattress so he could thread his fingers through Keith’s pitch hair, sweeping it back from his face and enjoying the shift of Keith’s scalp under his palm as his pace picked up, making Shiro groan and roll his hips; Keith didn’t stop him, didn’t resist so Shiro didn’t either, meeting the pace Keith set until he was nearing the back of his throat with each stroke and Keith’s cheeks were hollowing around his cock.

Shiro’s composure was cracking, Keith’s hands squeezing at the tops of his thighs, no doubt feeling the tremor in them as the arousal twisting in his gut went from a pleasurable pressure to something urgent to uncoil. Shiro cursed under his breath, tightening his hold on Keith’s hair so he could pull away, but not before Keith swallowed around him and _fuck_ , _that felt good I’m going to come-_ he yanked on Keith’s hair, sure to apologize for it later but right now, the wet _pop_ as he pulled out from between his lips was worth it and he came against them rather down Keith’s throat, moaning from the back of his throat as his vision swam, color spiking across his eyes again as Keith wrapped his lips around the head of his cock again to draw out and catch every drop of cum and then he made a hell of a show cleaning up his ruddy lips, running his thumb over them to make sure he had every drop. Shiro let out a shaky breath.

“ _Jesus_.”

“Keith is fine.” He grinned, feral, as he got off his knees and crawled back up Shiro. His breath shuddered out against Shiro’s cheek, Keith’s hand lazily palming at the front of his jeans. Must be uncomfortable. Shiro squinted at him, pulling him down into a kiss to muffle out his chuckle. Keith cupped Shiro’s cheeks, kissing him a little harder, mouths falling open together and Keith shamelessly rutted against Shiro’s hip until he moaned into his mouth. Shiro sunk his teeth into Keith’s bottom lip, tugging away slowly.

“Need something, baby?” He smirked, his hand catching Keith’s hip and squeezing hard to still him, earning him a whine that was petulant more than anything else. “We can do better than you coming in your jeans.”

“Shut up.” Keith sniffed, but everything in his expression said that he was definitely on board for anything Shiro had in mind, so Shiro gently rolled Keith out of his lap so he could pull open the drawer of his nightstand, digging around for the packets of lube and a condom. “Been raiding the nurse’s office?” Keith laughed at the sight of the packets, laughing all the more at the way Shiro shrugged.

“Yeah, I have to go there fairly often anyway.”

“Your arm and stuff?” Keith asked sincerely, even as he swung one leg back over Shiro’s lap and settled down on his thighs.

“And stuff.” Shiro said, running his hand up Keith’s thigh. “Jeans off.”

So Keith slid out of his lap again, feet on the floor so he could rather unceremoniously shuck his jeans and underwear off, shaking them off his ankle so they ended up a pace away. Either way, he had Shiro watching like a hawk, grabbing him by the hip again to yank him back into his lap with a flare of possessiveness that Keith hadn’t seen around in a while. He slipped his arms over his shoulders, lifting himself up onto his knees so that he was looking down at Shiro, kissing his forehead in a moment’s tender affection before Shiro tore open on the packets of lube with his teeth and coated his fingers. Clearly he managed just fine with one hand, in a lot of different respects. Keith buried his laugh in Shiro’s hair, his breath hitching in his throat at the brush of a finger against his entrance, cold lube making him jump slightly. Not entirely unpleasant. He breathed out slowly, spreading his thighs further and canting his hips back. Shiro mouthed at his chest, swirling the tip of his tongue around Keith’s nipple as one finger gently massaged the tense muscles, coaxing them to give a little so he could ease his finger into Keith, millimeter by millimeter, always marvelling at how _tight_ Keith was, and warm and it always seemed impossible that Shiro would be able to fuck him until he was, because Keith opened up so nicely around him with enough patience.

Keith sighed against Shiro’s ear, dropping kisses through his hair as he relaxed more and more, whimpering at the feel the finger thrusting inside of him slowly, curling slightly but not seeking out that sweet spot yet. When Keith impatiently bucked his hips back, Shiro tested a second finger and was met with enthusiasm, chuckling into the hollow of Keith’s throat as he slid the digit in alongside the first, feeling more than hearing the stuttering moan it elicited.

Keith’s hips snap back a little more insistently, and there wasn’t much Shiro can do to stop him, so he let him fuck himself on Shiro’s fingers, Keith’s hands splayed out on either side of his neck with his thumbs pressed in under the hinge of his jaw. He gasped when the third finger was added, whining high and sweet as his back arched and Shiro took the initiative to thrust in deep, searching out the angle that had him sliding over Keith’s sweetspot, which resulted in Keith crying his name and digging his nails into his neck. Shiro moaned, giving Keith a few more deep, slow thrusts before he pulled out and threw Keith off the side of his lap, pulling himself up onto the bed entirely before he grabbed Keith’s hip and turned him onto his stomach. Obediently, Keith slid up onto his knees and spread them wide, his face half in the pillow, his one visible eye watching intently over his shoulder. Shiro groaned under his breath at the sight of him, his arched back, narrow waist and perfect ass, his mess of black hair caught on the pillow. He ran his hand up his spine, between his shoulderblades, took a moment to caress his cheek.

“Beautiful.” The renewed flush in Keith’s cheeks is embarrassment this time, as well as arousal. His gaze flicked away from a moment so Shiro leaned forward and kissed his shoulder. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Keith, and I’ve seen a hell of a lot.”

The blush only gets more aggressive, burning the tips of Keith’s ears and he closed his eyes, reaching a hand back until he found Shiro’s cheek. “Don’t need to sweet talk me. Already love you.”

Shiro laughed at that, kissing Keith’s palm before sitting up again, grabbing the condom off the sheets and tearing it open with his teeth, rolling it on, slicking himself with another packet lube before he guided himself with his hand, head of his cock pressed against Keith’s entrance and Shiro took a moment just to admire the view, before his hand slid up Keith’s spine again, stopping between his shoulderblades as he slowly slid home, a shudder seeming to run through him and transferring to Keith. He paused every time Keith tensed around, gave him time, let him relax and until he bottomed out, Keith moaning at the feeling of being filled by him, forcing himself to breathe evenly so that he could relax and wouldn’t crumble apart within the first few strokes. With a minute nod, he gave Shiro the okay.

The first thrust was short and slow, experimental, working Keith open a little more. With each thrust he pulled back a little further, a pace building slowly until he was almost pulling out entirely and making Keith whine and pout at that threat. His hands were extending out in front of him, fingertips touching the wall the head of the bed was pressed up against. He cursed softly, and around a lump of pride he asked Shiro to _just fuck him already, Christ._

Shiro decided to give him what he wanted.

Shiro by no means was a possessive person. He maybe got a little jealous sometimes, but when he and Keith were out together, he didn’t feel the need to keep a hand on him, stare people down who showed him any kind of affection. He was confident. No need to be possessive.

Except for when they fucked. When they fucked it was like Shiro was trying to claim Keith, the firm hand pressed between his shoulderblades to keep him pinned to the mattress like a brand on his skin, his rough breaths close enough to a chant of _mine mine mine_ that he didn’t need to hear the real words to agree; _yes, yours yours yours._ If Keith even needed convincing to stay, the way Shiro angled his dick so that he slid against Keith’s prostate with every hard, deep thrust had him hook, line and sinker. He was bracing a forearm against the wall now, his other hand balled into the pillow so tightly he thought the fabric might tear. His thighs were shaking but Shiro wasn’t going to let up until they both got what they came for, so Keith could grin and bear the burn along his inner thighs from strain. It was worth it, he was seeing stars and he hadn’t even came yet, each controlled snap of Shiro’s hips sending him a little higher up into the clouds so that he wasn’t entirely aware that all those cries and moans and gasps were coming from _him_. At least the staff dorms were empty at this time of day, it wasn’t like fucking in the middle of the night with a sleeping classmate on the other side of the wall. That didn’t stop Keith from imagining the way Shiro used to cover his mouth with his hand, forcing Keith to keep his head up and when Keith came he would shove his fingers into his mouth for him to suck on, ride it out without making more than a whimper.

Keith was so close it was like an ache in him, his thighs shaking and he kept tossing his head, grinding his forehead into the pillow and then his cheek. “Fuck- _fuck_ , baby- I’ll come.” He gasped and he heard Shiro’s low growl of approval. He leaned over Keith, crowding into his space to drag his tongue up the back of his neck slowly. Keith threw a hand back, grasping at his short hair as best he could.

“Come for me, then.” Keith felt the words more than heard them, rumbled out against the nape of his neck, Shiro’s voice pitched low with lust and he had the good grace to slide his hand out from between Keith’s shoulder blades so that he could twist around as much as possible to grab Shiro and drag him into a desperate, messy kiss before his mouth fell open against his, every muscle in Keith’s body locking up as he came, hard, with a raspy moan that Shiro greedily swallowed, his thrusts never stopping as Keith was fucked through his orgasm, stars fucking _bursting_ across his eyelids and if it weren’t for Shiro wrapping his arm under his hips Keith’s legs would have given out.

Shiro was still moving in him, the cracks in his control starting to show as the snaps of his hips faltered a little, shuddered and when Shiro came he pressed his forehead to Keith’s back, moaning his lover’s name as the hand on Keith’s hip pulled him back onto him again and again until he was spent. Stilled. He kissed lazily up Keith’s spine, braced himself on his forearm, and rested his head on Keith’s shoulder while they both tried to catch their breath. It seemed like a heroic feat when they stopped gasping, panting, getting themselves back in control. Keith grunted when Shiro pulled out, finally sinking all the way down into the mattress as he heard Shiro get up, move to his bathroom. He came back shortly after, laughing when he tried to move Keith onto his side and got swatted in the face for his efforts.

“Baby, we gotta clean you up.”

“Needa shower anyway,” Keith mumbled dismissively, and Shiro gave a world-weary sigh. “Come ‘ere.”

Shiro tilted his head slightly, kneeling on the floor beside the bed to be eye level. Keith shuffled towards the edge of the bed, cupping Shiro’s cheeks with hands that still might’ve had a touch of tremor in them, and kissed him, short and sweet. Shiro smiled, brushing Keith’s hair back from his face. “What was that for?”

“Besides the best orgasm I’ve had in like, a fuckin’ year?” Keith snorted, but his face stayed soft. He shrugged, “I’m… I don’t know what’s gonna happen. With everything going on. And being here with you like this, I forget it’s even happening for a while- but when I do remember, I remember that you’re going to be by my side still. Makes it less…” Keith licked his lips, “scary.”

Shiro’s smile was so sweet, so loving and tender as he just sat on those words for a moment. Then he kissed Keith, and that’s all that the moment needed. They both understood.

Keith managed to convince Shiro that he couldn’t possibly shower on his own, so he got dragged in for his second shower of the day and they made out under the stream of water until their fingers were pruned and the hot steam was starting to get heady. Actually washing up was a hasty, militant two minute ordeal before Shiro cut the water.

When there was a knock at the door, Keith’s waved a hand at Shiro, telling him to stay on the bed while he dealt to it. Keith swiped his t-shirt off the floor, unlocking the door so that it slid open. Allura stood on the other side, her eyebrows drawing up in surprise and Keith pulled his shirt on quick, laughing his embarrassment away.

“Sorry, hey. What’s up?” He heard Shiro get up, walking over to see who it was. He was dressed, but Allura still diverted her gaze like she had caught them in the act. They had just been lying together, keeping their hands to themselves. Keith glanced up at Shiro, raising an eyebrow which just got him a faint shake of the head.

“Iverson wants us all in the briefing room in ten minutes. I believe he’s come to a decision.” She told the floor and Keith tried not to laugh. “Ten minutes.” She repeated, and then she turned and walked away, the door sliding shut again. Keith turned to face Shiro, folding his arms over his chest.

“What was that about?”

“Let her be,” Shiro chuckled, ruffling Keith’s damp hair. “We’re about to find out if the Blade of Marmora got through to Iverson or not. Let’s focus on that.”

The amusement in Keith’s expression flattened out, replaced with a slight frown as he moved to sit on the bed and tug on his boots- his combat boots, returned to him at last. He tied the laces on autopilot as the significance of what was about to happen sunk in. Shiro kissed the top of his head in passing, opening his closet to grab his own boots. They got ready together in silence, to apprehensive to just sit around until the ten minutes were up. They went to the briefing room, the Blade of Marmora members already waiting there. Keith gave them a tense smile, sitting across the table from Ulaz. Allura and Iverson came quickly after that, Allura carrying a small stack of files in her arms. Seven, to be exact. She handed them around the table, one each. Keith traced out the Garrison’s logo embossed on the front of it.

“We are still in deep discussion,” Iverson began without ceremony, taking the seat at the head of the table. Allura hovered just to the side of him. “However I am inclined to believe what I’m being told by the Blade of Marmora- their information is thorough and in some aspects, overlaps with ours. That being said, I will not being sending a _cadet_ out into space without absolute certainty that the information and the plan is sound.”

“So, what’s going to happen?” Shiro was the one who spoke up, his gaze sweeping over the Galra and landing on Iverson. Keith wanted a cigarette, or to hold Shiro’s hand. He swallowed down both wishes. Iverson would be reluctant to send Keith and Shiro out together if he knew how deeply they were involved. Emotional attachment serves as a distraction, least that’s what he says.

“I’ll be sending more experienced members of the Garrison out first, to do a dry run of sorts. Not all the way to the enemy ship, but to the rendezvous point with the Galra who will take you to it. Kolivan and Antok will be accompanying them. This is an exercise in trust, if anything is to go wrong, then the mission will be swiftly aborted.”

“In the packets in front of you is the outline of the potential mission, should the dry-run go according to plan. Familiarize yourself with it.”

“How long will the dry run take?” Keith frowned, picking at the edge of the folder.

“Not long. Three days, at most, so use those days wisely.” Iverson didn’t speak directly to anyone, addressing the entire room. “You’re dismissed.”

“Three days. What was that you said about preparation?” Keith looked up at Shiro as they waited for the elevator, his smile crooked. Even if nothing was confirmed, Keith was feeling good. Maybe this really could be all over soon.

“Three days for the dry run. Not the actual mission, smart ass.” Shiro rolled his eyes, smacking Keith’s ass playfully to get him into the elevator when it arrived. Camaraderie, if anyone saw him do it. They went down to the cafeteria level, starving after the morning they’d had. It was packed full of cadets, loud with their talking and laughter as they ate their lunches. Keith shrugged of his hesitance and fell into line behind Shiro, grabbing a food tray.

They had just found a table and set their trays down when the inevitable happened. The inevitable being Lance, at full speed, launching himself at Keith as he hollered his name. The force of him nearly had Keith on his ass, but he managed to keep his feet under him until Hunk came over and detached Lance like his personal wrangler. Wasn’t far from the truth.

“Holy shit, man! Where the fuck have you _been_ ? You would not believe the rumours flyin’ around about you.” Lance was waving his hands around, speaking with gestures more than anything else. Before Keith could answer, Pidge bowled into him, not at the same velocity as Lance but still enough to get an ‘ _oof’_ out of him. Keith tucked her under his arm, squeezing her shoulder.

“Yeah, where did you go?”

“Uh, it’s a long story,” Keith began, and had no idea where to take it from there. “Guess you heard that the Garrison caught me?”

Lance managed to say _duh_ with his body alone and Keith rolled his eyes at him. How was this his best friend. How had Keith missed the hell out of him.

“Can we eat and talk, at least? I’m starving.” Keith diverted, untangling himself from Pidge so he could drop into his seat. They all agreed, darting back in the direction they’d come from to grab their lunches. They arranged themselves around the table, Lance swinging on two legs of his seat while Hunk kept a nervous hand on the back of it so that Lance didn’t go cracking his head on the floor. Wouldn’t be the first time. Keith was chewing through a sandwich when Pidge prodded at him to spill it.

So Keith did, with occasional input from Shiro when they got into the nitty-gritty of the plan to bring down the leader of the Galra. Which sounded ridiculous when Keith said it outloud to his friends. Keith Kogane, savior of the fuckin’ planet. It sounded like fiction where he had inserted himself as the protagonist. Once it was all said and done though, the table was quiet, and then Hunk forced Lance’s chair back onto four legs and leaned forward.

“Okay, so, we’re coming with you.” Hunk raised his eyebrows, glancing between Lance and Pidge. “Right?” They both agreed.

Keith wasn’t actually against the idea. Not at all. He trusted his friends with his life, but… “It’s Iverson’s call, man. He’s already reluctant to send me, since I’m a cadet. In fact he’s only sending me because he has to.”

“So we prove to ‘im that we’re the guys for the job!” Lance made it sound simple, rocking his chair back onto two legs again only to have Hunk right it again. He side-eyed him, but behaved. “Between the five of us, we’re a pretty solid crew and fuckin’ awesome team. He’d be crazy not to take us and besides, like hell he’s slinging your ass into space on your own. All or nothing, us or no one.”

Keith couldn’t help but grin at his friends, and Shiro nudged his foot under the table, smiling right back at him. Of course the mission was going to be dangerous, they were going to waltz right into the enemy’s ship, but Keith was well past the point where he would try and lie to himself about wanting to do it all alone, or with a crew he didn’t know. He wanted his friends with him. He knew what they were capable of.

He trusted them.

“Yeah. Okay. All or nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is just meandering along at it's own pace so I've bumped the number of chapters up a bit. The chapters that are to come, though, are going to be pretty heavy. It's all been building up to something, after all! So I hope you enjoyed what was essentially a filler episode, heh;;  
> Keith got some, at least.


	7. Chapter 7

Space was cold and big and Keith had underestimated both of these factors.

All or nothing had turned out to be exactly how things turned out. The  _ all _ was Keith, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge and Lance along with Allura all being sent up to the space station and then shuffled into a transport that took them to a small, remote planet that acted as a refuelling base for Galra freight ships.

Less than a month ago, Keith’s biggest fear in the world had been the idea that Shiro would never speak to him again after he dropped out of the Garrison; the uncertainty of where he would go and what he would do once he dropped out of the Garrison. Now he was staring down the barrel of his first and only mission; it would either go right and end the war, or it would go wrong and he would be dead. He was refusing to tack onto that thought:  _ and my friends would be dead, too _ . He had to keep reminding himself that his friends had come of their own free will. He couldn’t suffocate under the weight of feeling responsible for them when they were all adults who had offered to help. They wanted to do this.  _ They wanted to do this _ .

But Shiro hadn’t slept through the night since they had left earth and it had never even crossed Keith’s  _ selfish _ brain to consider what would happen to Shiro if he was put back into the situation that had led to him losing his arm, his comrades, his friends. Of course he was having nightmares, flashbacks.

_ “They say I have PTSD.” _

_ “Do you?” _

_ “Sometimes.” _

They were underground, under the refuelling base while they waited for their transport to arrive. A couple of days, tops, which gave them at least a little more time to familiarize themselves with the weapons they’d been assigned and the suits they’d been given; light weight, easy to move in with boosters on the back for whatever creative uses the wearer could come up with. The helmets had comms wired into them and visors that information could be fed onto, although it wasn’t a feature they were likely to use. Keith was going to be the source of information, led by a spy hiding among Zarkon’s personal army. They had each been given weapons suited to their expertise in combat; Lance and Hunk were given blasters, one designed for a sharpshooter and the other a tank weapon. Pidge had been given what Keith could only summarize as high-tech knuckle dusters, precise weapons more designed for assisting her in getting her hands into Galra tech more than fighting. Not that Pidge couldn’t pack a punch, but her expertise was technology, always. Keith had gotten a shortsword, lightweight but sharp enough that Keith could swear he heard the air split on a downswing. It was a comfortable weapon, he liked it. Shiro also got a sword; one of the few weapons he could use one-handed, his was broader than Keith’s, with only one sharp edge. They’d both also been given pistols that holstered against the small of their backs, just in case. But out of all of them, Shiro and Keith were expected to do a lot of close combat; it was their speciality, and if it had to come down to who was going to go toe-to-toe with Zarkon next to Keith, it was probably going to be Shiro. The others were there to clear the way and cover their backs, and they were happy to do it.

There wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop Shiro waking up every night in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and trembling, though. Keith had tried.

They had pushed their small beds together so they could comfortably sleep against one another, sharing their blankets and their body heat to fend off the cold of the low-tech underground bunker- Keith never thought there would be a day that he’d miss the Heiress heat- and sleep came easy, had come easy with all the constant movement recently wearing them down thin. It was in the early hours of the morning that Shiro was aggressively ripped out of sleep, his body always reacting so violently to his dreams that it woke Keith up as well. He was used to it now; on the space station he woke up disoriented and panicky, now he knew to keep himself still and calm until Shiro was far enough out of his dream to not react in fear to being touched. Keith reached out for him in the dark, laying a hand on his cheek to draw him in. Shiro went easily, his breathing still short and harsh as Keith pressed their foreheads together.

“You’re safe.” Keith whispered, thumbs stroking Shiro’s cheekbones slowly, over and over. “I’m here, you were only sleeping.”

Shiro pressed into Keith, noses touching, chest to chest so that he could matching his breathing up to Keith’s. Safe. As warm as one can be in a bunker. Not alone, not hurt, not helpless. Shiro let himself be soothed, not able to close his eyes but able to relax a little as Keith ran his hands through his hair, scratched at his undercut. Grounding touches; he’d gotten good at it. Shiro had forced that upon him.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro breathed out against Keith’s neck, turning onto his back and bringing Keith with him. Keith made a soft noise of disagreement, lifting his head up to make out what he could of Shiro’s face under him. “You’re not getting enough sleep because of me. You need to be strong.”

Keith rolled his eyes even if Shiro couldn’t see, crossing his arms on Shiro’s chest and resting his head down on them. “I’m going to be running on pure adrenaline from the word go. Doesn’t matter if I slept for a week or not at all. I’ll be fine.” He felt Shiro heave a sigh under him, his hand running up Keith’s back. “Now, can you get back to sleep? Want me to sing?”

Shiro was silent for a long time, so Keith settled himself down and sang, like he had every other night since they had left earth, his softly bluesy songs that put them both to sleep eventually.

He was shaken awake at what Keith could only assume to be early morning- there was no natural light and really, hardly a concept of time at all here. The fact that he was still deeply asleep was his only hint at time. Keith blinked up at his disruptor, finding the yellow glint of Galra eyes above him and a gentle ease through his mind that told him it was someone that he knew.

“Kogane. You have a quarter hour to get ready and then you’ll be escorted to the transport dock. It’s time.” It was Thace, of course; he had well and truly taken up his role as Keith’s guardian recently, the one to always check on him and let him know what was happening. Made sense that he was the one to give the orders when the mission truly began. Keith nodded his understanding and heard Thace leave the room before he sat up. Leaning over Shiro, he wasted a few precious seconds just so he could lean down and kiss him while he was still at peace, sleeping and warm. And then he shook him awake, pulling the blankets away. Keith was already off the bed when he heard Shiro jerk awake, sitting up with a groan of protest from the bed. 

“We’ve got fifteen minutes, get ready.” Keith turned the light on and shucked off his clothes to pull on his suit instead, reaching over his shoulder to yank the zip up before starting to piece the armour together on top, systematically snapping each piece into place. Shiro was just as efficient, though he did have to turn to Keith for help with the zip and strapping on the chest armour. Keith was pulling on the last arm guard while Shiro checked over their weapons, passing over the sword followed by the gun once he was content. Keith shoved the gun into its holster and the sword into its sheath, the weight against his hip a comfort. The rest of the team had assembled in the hallway, fully geared up and checking over their weapons just to have something to do with their hands. There was an air of anticipation around all of them, adrenaline levels already rising as they realized  _ this is it _ , the whole reason they were out here in the first place. The thing that would either end the war or end them and they were ready for it. It was a huge relief for Keith to realize that- they were ready. Prepared for the best and worst scenarios. Keith tried to squash the urge to kiss each every one of them for being here.

All four members of the Blade of Marmora came down to collect them, dressed as soldiers they herded the team up the metal staircase, hushed and hurried as they led them through the small base even though they had secured it within hours of first arriving. The dock was an outcropping from the main building, circular and well lit with their transport sitting waiting. It was a freight ship, big and square and not built for speed but roomy enough for the team to fit inside comfortably as well as their gear. The pilot pulled back the side entrance when he saw them approaching, dressed as a soldier as well and looking unperturbed in the face of committing high treason. There wasn’t much else to do asides board, though Keith’s shoulder was caught before he stepped up into the hold. Thace pulled him back down onto both feet and Ulaz handed him something which was in turn handed to Keith. He knew it immediately.

“This blade was your mother’s. We’ve kept it safe until now, until you needed it.” Thace explained as Keith unsheathed the strange Galra knife he had found under the floorboards of his childhood home a month ago, although it felt like a decade. It had been given a knew sheath and the blade was polished and sharp. He balanced the weight in his hand, stroking his thumb over the symbol on the spine. His mother’s. Now his. “Keep it with you. It will help you when you need it.”

Keith slotted it back into its sheath, nodding as he fastened the blade next to the gun holster at the small of his back. “Thank you.”

Lance had taken his helmet off, turning it around in his hands while keeping his shoulder still because Pidge had fallen asleep against it, trying to grab as much sleep as she could before they hit their destination. Lance was staring up at nothing, his gun across his lap. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet and pensive, but then, this was the first time Keith had seen him in this situation. It wasn’t like the flight simulator where he played up on his ego and got cocky and reckless- he seemed to know the weight of this. Hunk’s helmet was off and sitting between his feet so that he could comb a hand through his hair over and over again until it was standing up on edge, but any nervous chatter he had rattling in his head he seemed determined to keep there, his lips pressed together into a tense line. Allura was quietly working away at the comms station set to the back of the carrier, tapping in numbers and adjusting levels. She was the retrieval team and also the one who would call on the Garrison fleet as soon as she was given the signal for backup, or the completion of the mission. Her long hair was up in a sensible bun and her brow furrowed in concentration. Pushing off of Shiro’s bent knee, Keith got up and made his way to her, kneeling down beside her. He pulled his helmet off, his hair tied back to keep it out of the way.

“Hey.” He began unceremoniously and she looked down from her screens, her frown gradually easing. “I… You know I really do forgive you, right? For everything.” Allura bit her lip lightly, her gaze falling to the side of him. “We’re friends, Allura, and I understand why you did what you did. I don’t hold it against you- none of us do. So forgive yourself. Guilt isn’t going to help us out there.”

They met each other’s gaze for a moment and when Allura finally gave him a steady nod, Keith smiled faintly and got up to return to his seat beside Shiro, keeping his helmet in his lap. Shiro nudged him with his knee, an eyebrow raised in question. Keith shrugged and smiled, dropping his forehead against Shiro’s shoulder as the closest thing he could get to seeking out comfort from him. Now was not the time to confirm suspicions that he and Shiro were anything other than close friends. Shiro still snuck a kiss into Keith’s hair when he could, and that was enough.

“We’ll be landing in five minutes.” Keith snapped awake, barely having been on the surface of sleep anyway, when the pilot called back to them. He swept a glance over his team as they got to their feet and got ready, tugging on helmets and checking weapons over again. Keith got up and stretched, cracking his neck before he put his helmet on and did a quick stock take; sword, gun, blade. This was it.

“So do we like, do a group hug?” Lance broke the silence, eyebrows raised and hands palms up. It was a genuine question that got a rattle of laughter before Keith shrugged and they all crowded in on each other, a group hug breaking into individual hugs until Lance punched Keith in the arm to get his attention. “Ready to go, punk? You’re our guide.”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go. Better cover my ass, McClain.”

The pilot had landed them in a near-empty docking bay, but still the silence they stepped into was… unnerving. Everyone immediately had weapons in hand, Lance up the front and Hunk watching their backs. They had been directed to the nearest doorway; it would lead them into a hallway and from there, Keith would be guided through the ship’s bowels until they found what they came for. It wasn’t a surprise that the ship wasn’t unlike the Garrison, given that they both stemmed from the same technology, the things Galra had given to the humans before all hell had broken loose. The Galra seemed to favor a darker color scheme, though, everything in shades of blues and purples. Keith couldn’t help his wandering gaze and how it always ended up landing on Shiro, watching him, waiting for something. He looked okay. His fingers flexed around the grip of his sword and he was listening hard for any sign of company as they crept up the hallway- waiting.

And then Keith felt like he’d been punched in the back of the head and their marching orders had arrived. He gasped hard, stumbling forward and dropping his sword in favor of clutching at his head. Shiro caught him immediately, his arm out against Keith’s chest to stop him from pitching forward. Keith blinked hard, trying to clear his vision while he steadied himself, nodding at Shiro to let him know he was okay. It had been more of a shout than a scream.

“This way…” He huffed, and took Lance’s place as the lead. Pidge took it upon herself to help Keith walk, scooping up his helmet before pulling his arm over her shoulders and he tested his weight on her. Between the two of them, he could walk at a normal pace, pointing with his sword edge in the direction of where they needed to go. Shiro met Lance’s eye for a moment, and the concern was clear to both of them. This was only the first contact- how many more directions was Keith going to receive? He wasn’t going to last like this.

And it was still so  _ quiet _ .

It was five minutes of walking before Keith was hit again, biting back a whine as he felt his knees buckle, just for a moment, and a sharp snap from one temple to the other. He squeezed Pidge’s shoulder hard, and kept moving forward. “Gotta keep going straight, then take a left.”

Lance took the lead again, and they could all feel the tension mounting.  _ It was so damn quiet _ . Not a single guard patrol had come past. They hadn’t had to duck behind a bulkhead or defend themselves yet. Nothing. Before they turned down the next corridor, Shiro called for a halt. Keith relieved Pidge of his weight, leaning back against the wall with a grimace. Lance adjusted his rifle against his shoulder, keeping guard even though they were apparently welcome guests.

“This feels like a trap.” Shiro said, and it was exactly what everyone else was thinking. “There’s no way that the emperor’s ship would be so unguarded.”

“You’re right,” Pidge replied, folding her arms, fingers tapping against her bicep. “But even if it is a trap… We have to keep going. What else are we going to do?” She looked around at the others, eyebrows raised. Of course she was right. They couldn’t just abort the mission, but the current approach was going to immobilise Keith fast. They couldn’t sneak around; they needed to take a more direct route so they could face whatever it was that was waiting for them and then get out. Shiro sheathed his sword and turned to Keith, resting a hand on his shoulder to get him to focus up on him. Keith gave a tense smile, nodding that he was okay. 

“Can you contact the Galra giving you directions?” He asked, “Can you ask him to give us a more direct route?”

Keith licked his lips, closing his eyes for a moment to try- but honestly, Keith had no idea what he was even attempting to do. He had been purposefully left in the dark about all of this, so that he would remain unnoticed. He could only receive messages. He couldn’t send them. He didn’t know how. He opened his eyes again, shaking his head. “I don’t know how. I can’t- I’m sorry.”

Shiro opened his mouth to soothe him, but Pidge spoke up first. “Uh, guys? Ship this big is bound to have a directory. If we can find an access point, I can hack into the system and find it.”

“Yeah, but we won’t know where they are just from that.” Lance put a hand on his hip, his gun hanging loose at his side. “Like you said, it’s a big ship.”

“Find me an access point, and you’ll see.” Pidge said testily, her bottom lip sticking out when Lance narrowed his eyes down on her. Shiro huffed a sigh, and they dropped it.

“Alright. We’ll find you a computer or something, come on.” Shiro offered his arm out to Keith as support and he took it, and they turned into the next corridor. There weren’t many doors to check- they were probably in service tunnels- but Pidge did get very excited to see a panel in the wall, calling everyone to a halt as she ran her fingers around the seam of it, grinning as she smacked the heel of her hands against the top corners, and the panel came away. She set it down quietly beside her and leaned in to inspect her find. 

“Helloooo, pretty thing.” She crooned to it, reaching for the pouch against the small of her back to pull out a small tablet, big enough to fit comfortably in her palm. She rested it on her knee, reaching back into the compartment to find what she needed. The tech stuff really was beyond the rest of the team- Hunk was the closest to understanding it, given his speciality was mechanics, but even then Pidge was some kind of master, well beyond what any of them could learn at the Garrison.

“Something useful?” Keith asked from against Shiro’s side, leaning forward to try and inspect what it was she was doing.

“Oh yeah. Should be able to tap into the whole damn system from here, no sweat.” She flashed him a grin over her shoulder, yanking hard at a cable to free it before picking up her tablet again and turning it in her hand until she found the appropriate port and plugged in. Her tablet screen lit up, the image scrambled and incoherent at first until Pidge gave it a couple of smacks against her palm and fiddled with the connection. The screen straightened itself out and she seemed pleased as the Galra automatically translated into English. Lance was leaning against the wall, whistling as he occasionally glanced up either end of the corridor, but they were definitely alone. Not a peep until Keith let out a cry and dropped before Shiro could stop him. He landed hard on his knees, shoving one hand hard into his hair once he had ripped his helmet off, letting it roll across the floor beside him. He groaned at the sight of blood hitting the back of his hand, reaching up to wipe his nose even if it just resulted in blood smearing along his cheek. Lance crowded his way into Keith’s line of vision, startled as he reached to push his hair back from his face. Keith shook his head slightly, feebly knocking his hand away.

“I’m fine-” Keith huffed, “-it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Okay, well, it looks pretty damn shitty.” Lance continued his inspection, narrowing his eyes down on his friend. “Need a hand up?”

“In a minute.” Keith nodded, hanging his head once Lance seemed satisfied that he couldn’t read anything more from his face. Lance patted him on the shoulder, sitting down next to him so Keith had someone to lean against. Keith tried to not feel like a burden, but so far he was turning out to be useless. The directions that were being yelled into his head were pointless now, and he couldn’t make them stop, so he was going to keep getting bombarded until the instructions were spent. He wasn’t going to be able to fight like this. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall. Keith didn’t try and keep track of how much time passed before Pidge spoke up again.

“Hey, hey guys! I’m in, come here, lemme show you something,  _ Lance _ .” She said pointedly over her shoulder as Lance got up and dragged Keith with him. Pidge sat back with her legs folded under her, holding her tablet up so that everyone could see it. “Figured they had some sort of security in this place even though so far it hasn’t bothered us a lick.” She explained, “And I was right. See here? These dots here are us, and if I zoom out so we can see more of the ship…”

The screen absolutely  _ lit up _ in a portion of the ship that they could only assume was the main deck. In a smaller area just beyond it, there were two lone lights. Keith’s stomach twisted and he stepped back, turning away. Pidge was still talking, laying out a clear path for them to take to get to the main deck. Hunk was griping about whether or not they really wanted to go  _ towards _ the light, noting that it could wind them up going towards a different kind of light. Keith heard Lance punch his arm. As always, it was Shiro who peeled away to comfort Keith, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s a trap.” Keith murmured, looking up at Shiro. “Everyone who is on this ship is in that room and I’d bet you anything that those other two in the room past it are Zarkon and the spy. If Pidge hadn’t… I would have led us right into that ambush. And even now, now that we know where they all are- there’s only five of us.”

“And?”

“ _ Shiro _ .” Keith frowned, his lips pressed into a firm, downward curve. Shiro sighed softly, and leaned forward to kiss him until he relaxed a little. When he pulled back, Keith looked a touch startled, glancing over his shoulder to see if they’d been caught. The others looked at them for all of a second before returning to what they were doing. Oh. Shiro smiled a little, tapping his chin with his knuckle.

“We can do this, Keith. Once we take Zarkon down, the rest will surrender. We’ll cut you a path.”

“We’ll cut you  _ both _ a path.” Lance interjected, quite literally, pushing between Shiro and Keith, throwing his arms around their shoulders. “No way this knucklehead can manage it on his own. You gotta keep an eye on him, Shiro.” Shiro laughed at that, nodding his agreement much to Keith’s chagrin and then Lance pulled them both to him a little tighter, narrowing his eyes conspiratorially, “Now how long have the two of you been mackin’ on each other? Ages, right?”

Keith glanced over at Shiro, smiling crookedly. “Remember your nineteenth birthday party?”

Lance’s jaw dropped, openly gaping at the two of them for a moment, before a look of horror swept over him. “Oh  _ god _ , you didn’t- not in my  _ house _ right?”

Keith snorted, shoving Lance off of him. “We’re not  _ animals _ , Lance. Now stop thinking about it, we’re actually on a mission right now, remember?”

Hunk and Pidge had been attentively listening in, and when Keith looked in their direction, their heads snapped back down to stare at Pidge’s tablet as she unplugged the cable. Hunk busied himself by replacing the panel, slamming his forearm against it to make sure it was back properly, like it mattered. Pidge waved her tablet in their direction, pointing to it.

“I have our route mapped out. We should get moving.”

“Yeah. Yeah we should.”

They all got to their feet and checked their weapons habitually, Keith and Shiro unsheathing their swords and on her free hand, Pidge slipped on her knuckle duster. The tablet was in her other hand, and she led the way with Lance standing as her guard beside her, his gun halfway to its ready position. When Keith was hit with another sharp crack of psychic contact Hunk caught him and held him up easily, one strong arm around him until he could rest him against a bulkhead and give him a minute to recover. They all waited patiently for his nose to stop bleeding and for him to stumble to his feet, insistent that he was okay to keep going, but he was obviously wearing thin. They only had a short distance to go and so Shiro made the decision that they needed to move faster, looping his arm under Keith’s as they all broke into a jog and then a run, Pidge leading the way with her eyes focused on her tablet that more than once she nearly clipped her shoulder on the wall.

And then she stopped so abruptly that Lance collided with her, opening his mouth only for her to hush him sharply. She held up the tablet for all of them to see, looking over her shoulder. They were right outside the main deck. Every Galra on this ship was through that door. 

“This door is locked. I can probably get it open-”

“I can open it.” Keith shrugged Shiro off of him, moving over to the control panel to the right of the door. He pulled one glove off with his teeth, wriggling his fingers at her. “Galra DNA. Ulaz told me that I should be able to operate parts of the ship because of it. I’m guessing this is a general access area, so...” He smiled a touch, and Pidge turned her tablet off and tucked it back into it’s pouch on the small of her back, sliding her other knuckle duster on. “Are we ready?”

Hunk moved over to Keith’s side as well as Shiro, leaving Pidge and Lance on the left side of the door. “We’ll cut you two a path.” Lance repeated and Keith nodded and lay his hand down on the control panel, watching the scanner sweep down under his palm and the panel lit up green and the door opened. Keith hurriedly shoved his glove back on and adjusted his grip on his sword, looking up at Shiro over his shoulder and as if he read his mind, Shiro leaned forward and kissed him lightly. And then they both squared their shoulders, nodded, and stepped out around the corner.

The room was full of Galra soldiers- armoured, their faces covered, blasters in their hand. They were all standing at the ready- Keith tried to count how many he could see, but he kept dropping the numbers. Maybe sixty- maybe eighty. Against five. At least twelve soldiers to take down each. His insides turned to ice, and then the adrenaline kicked in full throttle, roaring in his ears and stilling his hands. The throbbing in his head took a backseat as Keith’s conviction turned to steel. He was going to end this.  _ Now. _

If the Galra were waiting on them, they were happy to make the first move.

The first shot came from Lance and because he was one of the best sharpshooters in the Garrison, he didn’t miss. The first soldier went down and then chaos erupted; the war cry was deafening ricocheting off the walls of the deck. Keith, Shiro and Pidge threw themselves into the fray, meeting the frontline dead-on in close combat while Lance and Hunk picked off whoever they could from the doorway before they had to move forward.

It wasn’t like training. It wasn’t anything like training. Keith was still fast on his feet and quick with a sword, but none of his fancy footwork worked- it was too chaotic, he wasn’t fending off one person at a time, he was fending off three or four, ducking and whirling ungracefully just to get out of the way. Not the fancy pirouettes that kept him safe from training dummies and classmates. This was desperate and violent enough that Keith couldn’t think about the fact that when someone fell under his sword, they were dead. He’d killed someone. He couldn’t think about it right now, so he didn’t. He followed the path that was being cut for him, Lance leading the way with Pidge beside him, Hunk keeping them at bay behind them and Keith and Shiro, back to back, defending the perimeter as they moved slowly towards the door at the other end of the room- it was an ornate door, with Galra script carved around the frame of it and glowing that strange purple that seemed common around them. Keith just needed to get through those doors and take down Zarkon, and then they would be okay.

“Pidge!” Keith shouted over the noise, forcing his way up to her side, always moving, always fighting until they were back to back with each other and they could talk without being blindsided. “Call for backup. They obviously know we’re here- no point in you guys trying to do this alone. Call. I’m going for the door.”   
“Keith-!” Pidge called back, but Keith didn’t wait for it, clapping her on the shoulder before he took off. It was less about taking people down and more about getting through them, so he ducked and dodged, shouldering past soldiers and sheathing his sword in favor of his pistol- faster, less strain on his body to just pull a trigger. It was a misstep on his part that nearly caught him on the business end of a blaster- he hadn’t been paying enough attention to his surroundings and he had spun out of one attack and into another. He froze up just for a second, gaping helplessly up the barrel of the blaster and then suddenly there was a  _ crack _ and the blaster fell out of his vision, the soldier collapsed. Keith whirled around, and it was Shiro, of course, gun in hand. His expression was grim, but he nodded at Keith and they went together, the last few feet to the door, Keith yanking his glove off with his teeth and slapping his hand down on the control panel. The door slid open and they rushed in, the door snapping shut behind them, and the sounds of battle were reduced to muffled chaos. Keith tried not to think about what he left his friends to face. Backup was on its way, they could retreat for now.

Don’t think about it.

Keith and Shiro stood beside one another, huffing for breath as they got their bearings. They were in an ornate, circular room. It had a domed glass ceiling that Keith could see the stars through and across from the door was dias. This was a throne room. In his throne was Zarkon; Keith didn’t need confirmation, he knew. And kneeling on the floor beside him was the spy- hands bound behind him and he was no doubt hyper-aware of the way Zarkon was tapping a blaster against the arm of his chair.  _ Tap. Tap. Tap. _ Always in threes.

As if only just noticing them, Zarkon looked up across the room, a sly smile creeping over his features. “Well, I suppose I don’t need him anymore.” Zarkon said off-handedly, lifting the blaster and firing one clean shot into the side of the spy’s head.

“ _ No-! _ ” Keith lurching forward, throwing a hand up uselessly. He never would have gotten there in time. The body fell to one side, yellow eyes turning dim as they stared over at Keith. He dropped his hand, balling it into a fist at his side as his other hand shoved the pistol back into the holster. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“He was a traitor. Not even your planet allows traitors to live.” Zarkon replied nonchalantly, getting up to his feet, a sword swinging from his hip and he rested one hand on the pommel, all of his movements so casual, easy, confident that it grated on Keith, his fingernails digging into his palms even through the one glove he still had on. “So tell me who you are. He called you Kogane. I was expecting Galra, but you look very human to me.”

Shiro was making steps to be between Keith and Zarkon, his arm flung out protectively, his sword in his hand. Zarkon was acting like he couldn’t even see him, taking slow steps down off the dais and watching Keith like he was a curiosity, an insect that had never crossed his path before. Keith dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, reaching behind him, resting his fingers on the hilt of the blade there. He didn’t want to talk- he just wanted to end this. Zarkon narrowed his eyes like he was being inconvenienced by his silence.

“Maybe you can’t speak.”

Shiro shifted his grip on his sword. Keith should have seen it coming but even if he had, he couldn’t have stopped it. The pain that exploded across the front of his head felt like he’d been shot at point-blank range, so bad that he thought that was exactly what had happened to him. His scream was a distant sound as Keith’s entire body gave out on him. He went down onto his knees hard, barely getting his arms out under him to stop him from cracking his head on the solid floor. There was already blood dripping off the point of his chin, big black spots in his vision making it almost impossible to make anything out. He was gasping, shuddering, his chest tight. Someone was coming toward him and Keith blinked hard until he could make out Shiro rushing to him, dropping down onto one knee and grabbing him by the arm, hauling Keith upright. Shiro’s mouth was moving but all Keith could hear was car alarms, bells ringing, sirens going off. His head felt like it was going to explode, but the more he blinked, the more he breathed, the more the pain started to abate. He looked past Shiro, and Zarkon was watching, grinning widely now that he had figured it out.

“Shiro-!” Keith huffed out, shoving at his shoulder as hard as he could manage-  _ get away, get out, he knows-- _ and then there was another explosion of pain across Keith’s face, from the front to the back of his brain and down his spine and he felt Shiro move out from under his hand, heard Shiro’s outrage and the slam of his boots on the floor as he charged at Zarkon, defensive on Keith’s behalf, not thinking, reckless-  _ stop stop stop! _

By the time Keith got his feet under him again, they were too engaged in the fight to notice him. Shiro was losing ground though, having to work so hard to defend himself from Zarkon’s relentless attacks that he was getting backed up against the wall. Keith yanked the pistol out of it’s holster, raising his arm with a shaky grip and squeezing the trigger- missed. Never was great with a gun. But he had Zarkon’s attention so he fired again, didn’t care if the shots didn’t land so long as it got him off of Shiro and coming at him, which it did. Keith pulled his sword out, tossing the pistol aside so he had both hands on the grip as he charged to meet Zarkon who had drawn the blade that had been at his hip at some point when Keith was down. The metal screeched as the blades met, Keith’s meeting the guard of Zarkon’s and then he twisted to slam his shoulder into his chest- it wasn’t very effective, he was tiny compared to Zarkon and not even close to his full strength, but it gave him enough time to draw his sword back from his unfavorable position and he jumped back a few feet, fixing his stance and sparing a split second to glance over at Shiro in time to see him shaking out his arm and fixing his grip as he came to join Keith. Zarkon turned to both of them, still with that causal air as he sized them up. He knew now- he knew that Keith had no resistance to any psychic contact and that when he was hurt, Shiro acted irrationally. Or at least had. Something told Keith it wouldn’t happen again, but he still couldn’t let him fight alone.

Keith couldn’t help but feel like Zarkon  _ allowed _ them to re-engage, both of them throwing themselves into the fight with everything they had and they were doing- okay, they were doing okay. They were reclaiming some ground, pushing Zarkon towards the dais one step at a time and when Keith finally heard that bitten off cry of pain as he tore open the side of his thigh, he felt a weight lift out of his gut. He could bleed. That meant he could die. He caught Shiro’s gaze for a second, grinning at him as he pulled his blade back and brought it up defensively for the down swing of Zarkon’s blade- that didn’t come. Instead it was his hand that came down, grabbing a fistful of Keith’s hair and yanking him forward until their foreheads met- just for a moment but that was all it took. Keith’s sword fell out of his hand and the pain of Zarkon lifting him up off his feet by his hair barely even registered through everything else, and like a ragdoll Keith was flung across the room, hitting the floor with a grunt, rolling onto his side and gasping for breath. 

Keith couldn’t move. He had never felt so much pain in his  _ life _ , his entire body so tense he was shaking. He couldn’t focus his eyes, couldn’t see anything but a blur of colors that somewhere, in the back of his mind, he could recognize as Shiro and Zarkon still fighting. Couldn’t focus on it though, not while it felt like someone’s hands were in his head, squeezing his brain, shoving pins into it. He let out a wet, broken sob and squeezed his eyes shut; it lessened the pain, just a little but it was something. Keith managed to roll onto his stomach, the movement made him feel like he wanted to vomit but he held still, let it pass and got himself up onto his elbows. It felt like it took a lifetime to do that one simple task, like gravity was fighting against him the whole damn time, and getting his knees up under him was even harder. He spat blood, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth slowly and then trying to open his eyes again. His vision had cleared but he wished it hadn’t. Zarkon had gotten Shiro down, his sword kicked out of reach and Shiro couldn’t do anything to get to it with Zarkon’s boot firm on his chest. Keith let out a choked, desperate sound and Zarkon glanced over at him, tilting his head slowly.

“Still going, are we?” He taunted, pressing down harder on Shiro’s chest as he leaned forward to get as close to Shiro’s face as possible. “Let’s find his breaking point.”

“ _ No _ .” Shiro barked, so Zarkon stomped down on him and the next sound out of him was just a rasping breath and Keith shook his head, silently pleading for Shiro to stay still,  _ stay still, don’t get hurt _ \- 

Keith knew what was going to happen and he scrambled for a defence against the mental barrage. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to think of walls, locks, barred doors- defenses. He’d seen it in movies, read it in books. Create a mental barrier, right? Keith clung to the images, fought desperately to protect his mind even when he heard Zarkon laughing, laughing at him for even trying it. For a while, Keith thought it might have been working.

He was wrong. It didn’t matter what Keith thought about, Zarkon’s assault cut through it all like it was crepe paper and then went on to dissecting his mind and to Keith’s horror- he started realizing what it was that was tearing his head apart. Not Zarkon’s words or thoughts.  _ His _ . His memories were being plucked out like loose threads and then unravelled, torn up. Zarkon had crawled into his brain and was rampaging through everything.

It  _ hurt. God, it hurt so much _ .

There was no real way to describe what Keith was seeing- It was like the way one saw a daydream. That was the closest comparison. They were like impressions, water color paintings. Nothing solid, nothing he could really hold onto, aside from how much it hurt. He was just watching things being dug out of his brain by a pair of sharp fingers. It was like seeing a complete puzzle out in front of him, and then all of the pieces started getting pulled apart and tossed aside, but with the pain equivalent of the puzzle pieces being carved right out of his skin.

Was he losing these memories? Would they come back after this?  _ Oh, God. _

Keith threw up. He dry-retched until his throat was burning and when he opened his eyes there was blood all over the back of his hands, dripping from his face. He was seeing double, he couldn’t-

He couldn’t fight this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you squint you can see the end of this fic hurtling towards you  
> for some reason i decided to write a fic with action scenes in it even though i can't write action scenes by ayyyy *finger guns*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is coming to an end. Keith is always fuckin' bleeding.

Keith opened his eyes, and he could see the stars up above him. He was lying on his back, although what he was lying _on_ he couldn’t really tell- it wasn’t hot or cold, firm or soft. He looked around himself, turning his head to one side and then the other- all he saw was the night sky and stars, thousands of them, more than he knew were ever visible. He didn’t know where he was, but at the moment, he couldn’t make himself care. Where ever he was, he wasn’t in any pain. That was all he cared about. No pain. He closed his eyes, stretching his arms out beside him, spreading his fingers out. Not cold or hot. Soft or firm. He was just comfortable. Keith sighed, and it didn’t seem strange for him to see his breath in the air above him, shimmering and silver. He just watched it as it slowly dissipated, and thought that he wanted a cigarette. And then he did have a cigarette, resting between to fingers. He looked it over, already lit but never burning down and then he took a long, deep drag and nicotine flooded his system. Keith exhaled slowly, watching the bluish smoke twist up and away from him. Endless cigarette. Another reason for Keith to want to stay just where he was. He left the cigarette hanging from his lips, folding his arms under his head and closing his eyes again, lazily taking drags and exhaling through his nose.

Bliss.

“Kogane.”

Keith cracked one eye open. There was no obvious source of the voice, which was a woman’s voice, not one he recognized at all. Deep and pleasant, but strange. After a moment of silence, he closed his eyes again and puffed on his cigarette.

“Kogane. Get up, lazy bones.”

This time, Keith sat up. His cigarette was gone and he didn’t question it- he didn’t want it anymore so it had gone away. _Kogane_. He was being called Kogane, not Keith. He scowled out into the distance, at more black and more stars and nothing else. “Hello?”

“Don’t make me come over there. Get up!” It wasn’t a mean voice. It was sort of teasing, it reminded him a little of how Allura spoke to him and his friends. Slowly, Keith stood up and for the first time, saw what it was that he was standing on; nothing. There was no floor under him, just more stars. There was a momentary rush of vertigo before Keith gingerly stepped forward and found something solid under the toe of his boot, just nothing he could see. Okay. Keith licked his lips and started walking forward, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his flannel and looking around for who might have been calling him.

“Over here, Kogane. Come on.”

The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere to the left of him, so he turned on his heel and wandered in that direction. He felt light, like if he jumped up he wouldn’t come back down. His surroundings never changed as he walked. When she appeared, it felt like she suddenly sprung up out of nowhere, but also like she had always been there, standing there a little impatiently, her hands on her wide hips.

She was a Galra woman, and Keith had to tilt his head back to met her eye. She was strongly built with wide shoulders and hips, her hands large but graceful. In her face, Keith saw himself. She had the same narrow features he did, the sharp chin and slim nose, eyes that swept upward at the corners though they were still that strange shade of yellow, not dark like his.

Well, Keith had never really looked much like his father, who was a man born and raised in Texas with a southern drawl and a fondness for cowboy boots and blue jeans. Almost a caricature. Far more American and masculine than Keith had ever been, though he’d never been bothered by the fact. Meeting his mother now just helped him make sense of things he’d always wondered about. After all, he had grown up without a single photo of her to look at. His father had told him she was a Japanese woman. Kogane.

Keith stared at her for a long time and slowly, she smiled at him, and it was his smile coming right back at him. A little crooked but very warm and when she lifted her hands up to his face, Keith didn’t flinch. He allowed her to touch him, tracing the planes of his face with her fingertips.

“My, I always knew you’d be pretty.” His mother laughed brightly, her hands dropping down onto Keith’s shoulders. “And strong! Pretty and strong, like your mother. Good. I loved your father, but I always wanted you to take after me.” She confided in a stage whisper, her smile turned into a grin. Keith was probably gaping- he was definitely gaping.

“Mom.” He said, just to feel the word on his tongue. He lay his hands on her arms, his shocked gape slowly turning into wobbly smile. He blinked back the mist in his eyes, not wanting to cry but- “ _Mom_.”

She swept him up like he was nothing, crushing her to him in a hug, his feet dangling well off the floor. Keith threw his arms around her neck and pressed his face hard into her shoulder and they hugged for a long, long time, making up for years of being apart. There was no need to say anything. They just held each other.

Eventually, she set Keith down, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up then smoothing it down again. “Now, Kogane.” She said, her tone shifting into something more stern, more commanding. “You know you can’t stay here, don’t you?”

“Why not?” Keith frowned, probably sounding petulant but- he didn’t want to leave. It was peaceful here and his _mom_ was here. He couldn’t even really remember what was outside of this place.

“You have something you have to do, love.” She said, coming down onto her knees so that they were a little more level. She took his hands in hers, head tilted to one side. “Your friends need you. You can’t just run away from them. You can’t stay here.”

“But you’re here.” Keith replied softly, swallowing hard around a swell of pain different from the pain he was running from.

“And I’ll always be here, when you really need me. That’s why we’re here now. You needed me, but now you have to go back and finish what you started.”

“I can’t.” Keith confessed, feeling like he was being reduced to a child in the face of his failings. He couldn’t go back, not to fight. He didn’t have the strength left in him for it. “I can’t do it.”

His mom gave him a sad sort of smile, squeezing his hands in hers. “My pretty boy. You are much stronger than you know. You _can_ do it. I’m going to be right there with you, too. Finish what you started.”

Keith worried his lip for a moment before sighing, resigning himself to the truth- he couldn’t just stay here. He couldn’t. This wasn’t real in the same way that Shiro was real, the Garrison, the Galra. It wasn’t just something he had made up in his head but it _was_ in his head. His mother saw him give in, pulling him to her, cupping his head in her hands to bring him down so she could press a warm, sweet kiss to his forehead. He didn’t feel so light anymore. He felt like something was being poured into him, starting at his feet and filling him up from there.

“I love you, Kogane.”

“I love you, too.” He sniffed.

*

Keith opened his eyes, and he could see the stars up above him. Underneath him was the cold hard floor of Zarkon’s throne room and his blood and vomit was splattered across it beside him, on him. The stench made him dizzy. His whole body was singing with pain, there was a throbbing behind his eyes and a ringing in his ears. He blinked hard, turning his head to the side and he felt his insides turn to ice.

He didn’t know how long he had been out, seconds or minutes or longer, but Zarkon still had Shiro- and his sword and Shiro was making- horrible sounds- horrible. Pained, bubbling gurgles and there was blood that Keith couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. He was looking in Keith’s direction, staring over at him even though he was in pain, it was obvious that he was watching Keith to make sure _he_ was okay.

Keith had to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a sound. Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and then up onto his knees, reaching behind him to unsheath the blade on the small of his back. His mom’s blade. His heart ached at the sight of it and the memory of her kind, sharp face. And then he tightened his grip and stood up. Shiro knew not to track his movements, still staring listlessly at the spot Keith had been lying while Keith all but tip-toed around the room, the blade a comforting weight in his hand and some the fear lifting off him when he successfully put Zarkon’s back in front of him, Zarkon so focused on his slow torture of Shiro that Keith wasn’t sure _anything_ would be able to get his attention. He didn’t think past that, his stomach churning, and he didn’t hesitate. He just ran at him, drawing his arm up over his head as he threw himself at Zarkon’s back and brought the blade down hard between his shoulderblades. Zarkon screamed and jerked backwards, trying to throw Keith off but he held tight to the blade’s grip, refusing to give Zarkon even a moment to retaliate. He twisted the blade hard to the side, grinding it it into his body while Zarkon raged and struggling, swinging his sword blindly and if he hit him, Keith didn’t notice. He just wanted him to go down. _Go down. Go. Down!_

There was a burst of heat in his hands from the blade and he watched with wide eyes as the handle expanded, longer and wider and seconds later he heard a sick, wet crack like something had punched through Zarkon’s chest. The scream was one of pure rage and Keith was finally thrown off of Zarkon, who whipped around so suddenly Keith didn’t see him coming. He yelped when his wrist was caught in a crushing grip, hard enough that he was sure he heard the crack of a bone breaking. Zarkon yanked him forward and like he had before, he slammed their foreheads together.

Keith couldn’t even scream. The pain was explosive. It was crippling. It wouldn’t stop- he was feeling _everything_ Zarkon was feeling as he died. Every scrap of rage and fear and the agony. The _hatred_ . Keith wanted to check his chest, he wanted to check to see if there was a hole there, if his chest had burst open because it _felt like it was there, the blade, deep in his sternum, breaking bones ohgodohgodohgod---_ but he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed, every muscle locked until Zarkon finally let go.

Zarkon’s body fell to the side and Keith swayed on his feet for a moment, his eyelids fluttering and he couldn’t get them to stay open for long. He stumbled and fell forward, testing to see if he could put any pressure on his wrist that had cracked- no. He couldn’t even touch it to the ground without it hurting so he kept it tucked to his chest. _Check on Shiro. Get to Shiro._ He crawled, dragged himself up to Shiro, and dragging his trembling hand over the deep furrows left in the breastplate of Shiro’s armor. _Where’s the blood coming from?_

Shiro made a noise, turning his head to look up at Keith through his eyelashes, his brow furrowing at the sight of him. Keith’s face felt wet- tears and blood and bile. Maybe even snot. He probably looked horrific, but at least they were both alive. Keith tried to smile, but it might have been more of a grimace and then Shiro brought a hand up to touch Keith’s face lightly. He leaned into the touch and finally let himself sink down onto his stomach, lying beside him. Relief washed over him like a cool river. Alive. Shiro was alive.

Keith’s world went black.

_Am I dead?_

_No, sweetheart. You did it. You can rest now._

*

Waking up was like swimming through molasses. Keith couldn’t even see the light at the surface but he figured he couldn’t just stay down here. Had to go up at some point, now was good, though it was easier said than done. He wanted to stop a lot of times, tired of the slow pull and the feeling of one step forward two steps back. It was easier to just float in the dark. Thinking was so hard. It was feebly that he finally managed to find something solid enough to act as leverage, pulling himself up into consciousness.

The first thing he noticed was how dry his throat was. Keith tried to talk but it just came out as a painful rasp, and he wondered how long it had been since he last used his voice. Blinking was hard. His eyelids were so goddamn heavy, but he wanted to see. He was so incredibly sick of the dark, so even blurry, out-of-context light was a relief once he finally got his eyes open enough to squint out through his eyelashes. When his eyes opened a little further and his vision focused enough to make out some details, he saw the IV in the back of one hand and the cast on the other, covered in black marker that he couldn’t really make out yet. He was in some kind of medical facility, which he figured was a good thing even though Keith couldn’t remember exactly _why_ he was here yet. All he could do was lie there until a nurse came to check on him.

She was a sweet looking Altean girl who was delighted to see him awake, smiling down at him as she gently lay her hand against his forehead, more as a comfort than anything else. “Good morning, Keith. How are you feeling?”

He had another go at talking, his throat burning at the sensation as he croaked out, “thirsty.”

The nurse nodded and poured him a cup of water, dropping a straw in it and holding it for him as he took a few gulps. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but it was something. He smiled faintly, licking his lips. “Better, sweetheart?” Keith nodded and she set the cup down and took a moment to check his vitals and swap the IV bag with a fresh full one. “Well, you’re looking nice and healthy. Your friends will be so happy to hear. If you’re up for it, they really want to see you.”

Keith nodded immediately, “yeah- I wanna see them.”

The nurse patting his shoulder fondly. “Alright. You take a bit more time to yourself, and then I’ll send them through. Need anything else?”

“No,” Keith swallowed. “No, thank you.”

After a moment of figuring out how his fingers worked, he groped around for the control for his bed, squinting down at the little illustrations on it until he found the button that would incline him up into a sitting position and then he picked up the cup of water again and finished it off.

“Holy shit, you look terrible!” Lance boomed from the doorway, one hand on his hip and the other in a sling. Pidge shouldered past him with a certain level of care before she rushed over to the bed, obviously containing herself from jumping up on the bed until Keith was holding his arms out to her, desperate for some human contact and so Pidge threw herself into him. Keith suppressed his groan of pain and hugged her back, burying his face in her hair before pushing her back gently to look her over.

She had bruises up along one side of her face and a cut over her eyebrow. Her knuckles were bandaged over, but Keith could imagine that they were torn up pretty badly underneath. He bit down on his bottom lip and Pidge shook her head lightly; _not your fault_. That was the length of their private moment before Lance strolled over, pulling up a chair and easing himself into it carefully.

“Damage report?” Keith gave a sweeping gaze over Lance, eyebrows raised. Pidge was settling down beside him on the bed, legs swinging off the side and her hand in his.

Lance gave him a shit-eating grin. “Got shot in the shoulder, broke my damn collarbone, blood all over the place.” He waved a dismissive hand, obviously trying to downplay it all but Keith knew him well enough to recognize when he was rattled. All his forced bravado doubled in effort. “Couple of cracked ribs, bruised to hell and back. Might even have some battle scars. Tell you what though, I kicked some _serious_ ass.”

Keith huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes which stung a little. “Yeah, I bet you did, man. Where’s Hunk?”

Lance’s face fell at the question and he scratched at a small scab above his eyebrow. “He got pretty busted up. He’s still in bed, conscious and stuff but he won’t be up and about for a while.” Keith couldn’t reach Lance to lay a hand on his shoulder. He gave him a weak smile instead. “What happened?”

“Well,” Lance slumped down in the seat a little, knees spread wide and his one good hand getting ready to tell half the story. “We were making for a retreat until backup arrived when Pidge gets pistol-whipped by one of those assholes. She went down hard and I kinda lost my cool, took the fucker down and then went to check on her. Dropped my guard. Got shot. Hunk was covering for us but- man, that stupid ass hand canon of his. Not ideal for close combat. He got shot in the leg, the blast shattered his femur. The fragments nearly cut through a main artery but… They didn’t. He lost a lot of blood but, goddamn, he kept shooting to cover my ass until help arrived. He got a blood transfusion while we were heading back here- we’re in the space station, by the way- and that kept him stable. Recovery’s gonna be a long road, but you know Hunk. He’s griping, but keeping his spirits up.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Keith murmured and Lance was immediately shaking his head and his hand at him.

“No no no. You’re not taking on guilt here, man. We were all expecting to walk away a little worse for wear, we accepted that and went with you anyway. Whatever happened to us was a direct response to our decisions. Wipe that look off your face before it gets stuck that way.”

It was pretty easy to remember that Lance was a big brother at times like these. Keith couldn’t keep wallowing with sound logic like that was being knocked into his head, so he just nodded a little and dropped the issue. He had one last question to ask and it made his stomach lurch. There was another face missing in the room. Keith glanced between his two friends, teeth pressed into his bottom lip.

“Shiro?”

“He’s okay.” Pidge gave Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze, drawing his attention. “He had some pretty bad injuries, but he’s recovered really well so far. He, um…” Her gaze skittered to the side nervously before she continued, “He was pretty badly shaken up. You know, past trauma coming back up to the surface and stuff, but he’s been talking to people and I think knowing you’re awake will make him feel better as well. You’re only allowed two visitors at a time, so he’ll be along later.”

Keith sank back into his pillows with a sigh. It wasn’t quite relief, but the fear filling up his chest like his lungs over-expanding dissipated. Shiro was alive and would probably be okay given some time to heal. Keith thanked his friends, and they could tell he was tired so they said their goodbyes and left him to rest.

As soon as he was alone, Keith let go. The sobs broke through and Keith was crying in a way he never had before, except for when his father passed away. He didn’t bother covering his face up, letting the big, hot tears roll down his face, sliding down from the corner of his eyes and gathering up in his hair. His chest was heaving and it took a long, long time for him to calm down. His face was wet but he left it that way, staring up at the ceiling blankly. He startled when he heard the door open, blinking away the mist and finally wiping at his face with his one good hand. He recognized the rhythm of his footfalls alone, sitting up to see Shiro coming over to the bed, smiling at him softly, a little wobbly. Keith immediately felt the tears welling again, swallowing hard. Shiro moved the chair closer to the side of the bed, sitting down very carefully before he reached out to cup Keith’s cheek.

“Hi baby,” Shiro said softly, wiping under Keith’s eye at a stray tear. Keith was looking over him, his eyes never stilling on one thing for long. He had two butterfly stitches over his cheekbone, an angry bruise underneath them. A split lip was gradually healing up and he had another bruise on his jaw. He looked exhausted. Keith pushed his hair back from his face gently, biting hard on his bottom lip. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Keith said with a weak laugh, before his expression fell again. “What happened?”

“I thought you were dead.” Shiro said plainly, taking Keith’s hand from his face to hold it instead. “You went down so hard and didn’t get back up again, and he wouldn’t let me get to you.” Keith wound their fingers together, squeezing gently. “I wanted to kill him. I tried, but I was just… Tired. I thought I’d already lost you.”

“Shiro…” Keith said softly, but he didn’t know where to go from there. Shiro shook his head faintly, squeezing his hand right back.

“I held onto you until back up came and the masked one- Antok?- took you away. You didn’t wake up, no one could get a response from you, but they told me you would be okay. You just needed to sleep after your mind had been under so much stress.” Shiro pressed on, his eyes focused on their entwined hands. “You’ve been asleep for three days. No brain damage. Your wrist is broken, and you have some cuts on your side and thigh that needed stitches.”

“What about you?” Keith asked, when he could get a word in edgewise. “Pidge said you got hurt pretty bad.”

“Not that badly.” Shiro said defensively, and Keith didn’t believe him for a moment. Shiro shifted in his seat a little, getting up to his feet to curl his hand in hem of his shirt and lift it up gingerly. His stomach was wrapped in bandages from hip to rib cage, packed heavily with gauze that made Keith suck a breath in through his teeth. Shiro dropped his shirt again and when he sat down, it was on the edge of Keith’s bed. “I’m okay, I’ll heal.” Keith sat himself up despite Shiro’s protests; he wasn’t the one hurt and he wanted- needed- some physical affection. He rubbed his cheek against Shiro’s shoulder, reaching across his lap to take his hand in his again. Shiro relented pretty easily, turning his head to press kisses into Keith’s messy hair, ignoring Keith when he whined that it was gross from three days of sleeping. Shiro didn’t care. As soon as he’d been able to get out of bed, Shiro had spent as much time as possible at Keith’s bedside just waiting for him to come back to life for him. The beeping of his heart monitor wasn’t much comfort for him, he needed to see Keith open his eyes, speak to him.

“Hey.” Keith lifted his head to meet Shiro’s eyes, who raised an eyebrow in question. “I love you.” He said softly, running his fingertips over Shiro’s unbruised cheek. Shiro smiled, pressing a kiss into Keith’s palm, murmuring against his skin.

“I love you, too.” Keith wrapped both arms around Shiro’s neck, carefully shuffling forward to get close to Shiro without jostling his injuries. He kissed the corner of Shiro’s mouth.

“When- before we left for the mission,” Keith started quietly, tracing patterns along the top of Shiro’s shoulder with his fingertips. “The Galra promised that they would teach me more about my abilities.” Shiro hummed his approval until Keith’s silence lasted a little too long. Keith swallowed, averting his gaze. “They’re leaving Heiress. I’m going with them.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. They want to go looking for Galra that’ve been hiding on earth, any remaining members of Blade of Marmora that might be out there.” Keith drew back, his hands on the back of Shiro’s neck. “Either way, I’m going to go with them. I have to.”

“Will you come back?”

Keith dropped another kiss to the corner of Shiro’s mouth, and Shiro felt the nod with the brush of Keith’s hair against his skin. “Of course I will. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“Then go with them and learn everything you can.”

*

After a month, it was decided that Hunk was healed enough to safely travel back to earth. Everyone’s bruises had cleared up by then, Shiro’s wounds were healing up nicely and Keith was on his feet, the stitches removed from the cuts on his thighs and waist which would leave some wicked scars. Lance still had his arm in a sling, and there were talks of operations on his shoulder and collarbone because the damage was more extensive than originally thought. Hunk would be facing surgery as well, and everyone knew that Lance wouldn’t be leaving his side the whole time. In all the days that they’d spent on the space station, Lance had spent most of his time at Hunk’s bedside, killing time for them both in any way he could think of. Pidge was taking bets for how long it would take them to realize.

Heiress was not a city that ever changed. Their plane landed in the tiny desert airport and Garrison vehicles picked them up to bring them through the city. Shiro’s leg was bouncing, his forehead pressed against the window as he watched the same dusty town pass him by. Keith was beside him, his knees tucked up to his chest as he phased in and out of sleep. Space travel and then navigating the L.A airport had taken it out of him. Shiro spared him a fond glance every now and again, and as they pulled into the Garrison grounds, he gently shook him awake.

They were met with applause and loud whooping from the moment Keith stumbled out of the car, blinking hard into the blinding mid-morning sunlight. The square was full of cadets and staff alike, crowded around the vehicles to try and catch a glimpse of the heroes, with Iverson at the front and Allura dutifully beside him- she had left the space station shortly after the mission was complete- beaming at her collection of friends. They all looked a little rough, tired and patched up and… disbelieving to be on real ground with sunlight on their faces and fresh air in their lungs. Keith squinted up at Shiro who smiled crookedly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. They awkwardly and shyly accepted the attention, before Allura and Iverson led them inside to be debriefed.

Afterwards, they all had different places to go.

Lance and Hunk were going directly to the medical and research facility to have their injuries taken care of and their surgeries planned and scheduled so that they could finally recover as fully as possible. The likelihood of them getting some hardware put into them was high, in fact unavoidable. They were in high spirits though, when they said goodbye to their friends Lance had pressed exaggeratedly noisy kisses to all of their cheeks and punched Keith hard in the shoulder.  

Pidge wanted to carry out her school year. They had all been given honorary degrees, but Pidge was more interested in the information rather than the qualification. The Garrison was interested in getting her advice on how to re-shape their program, now that they didn’t need to be training up soldiers and they wanted Shiro in on it as well. Shiro didn’t have anywhere else to go, and if Keith was leaving then Shiro wasn’t going anywhere Keith wouldn’t be able to find him.

And Keith _was_ leaving.

The Blade of Marmora members had kept their promise to teach Keith all that they could about his Galra heritage. They also kept their word about leaving Heiress to re-establish themselves somewhere else, somewhere larger, working with the Garrison to establish a safe haven for the Galra who had been held captive or who had hidden themselves for so long. Keith was a posterboy of unity between humans and Galra, especially now that he was the boy who had ended the war, reduced the fighting down to an easy picking off of the few generals who remained loyal to their fallen dictator. Keith wanted to help, for his parents. For himself. So he was leaving Heiress.

It was early in the morning when Keith and the Blade of Marmora members were ready to depart. In the yard outside of the main Garrison building, a truck was being loaded and Keith was finishing a cigarette off as he stood straddling his bike, his leather jacket unzipped, his gloves on. Ready for a long ride. He picked at his eyetooth as he waited for Shiro, huffing cigarette smoke to try and tame his nerves until he heard the door open and the crunch of gravel under boots. Shiro had a small smile on his lips, his steps a little clipped as he came over. Keith flicked the butt of his cigarette away, sitting up and pushing his hair back from his face.  
“All ready to go?” Shiro asked, catching the hand Keith held out to him and lacing their fingers together. He glanced around the square, nodding slightly to Thace and Kolivan before they climbed up into the truck to give them privacy. Keith scooted back as far as he could on the bike and Shiro swung his leg over, settling down to face Keith, their legs tangling on either side of the bike.

“Yeah, just about.” Keith smiled crookedly, before he let out a hard sigh and leaned to press his forehead to Shiro’s chest. Shiro ran his hand through Keith’s hair, pressing a kiss in it’s wake. “I know I’m coming back, but this is still…”

“I know.” Shiro soothed, “I know. We keep colliding and then separating again.”

“Feels like the world is out to get us.” Keith laughed dryly and didn’t resist when Shiro curled his fingers under his chin to lift his head up. “But I am coming back this time, and then I won’t go anywhere, even if you plead.”

“For you to leave?” Shiro scoffed, kissing the tip of Keith’s nose. “Never going to happen. I’m going to think about you everyday, baby.”

“I’ll call whenever I can.” Keith promised, and Shiro smiled down at him and the way he set his jaw with determination, like this was another fight he could go into swinging and come out on top of. He loved this man. Shiro caught Keith’s chin, leaning in to kiss him. Keith slid his hands up Shiro’s chest and over his shoulders, pressing into the kiss. It was warm and lingering and singular. Keith was the one who pulled back, dropping his hands down into his lap while Shiro got up off the bike. He pushed his hand through Keith’s hair again.

“Travel safely, okay?” Keith caught his hand before Shiro pulled away entirely.

“Wait- I meant to say. My house- will you look after it? I figure you don’t want to keep staying in the dorms here, right? You could…” Keith shrugged a little, averting his gaze. “You could make it more of a home if you want. I know it needs some work.” Shiro came in again for another kiss, catching Keith by surprise so that his eyebrows shot up and he blinked widely as Shiro pulled back with a grin.

“Of course I will. Another reason for you to come home, right?”

“Like I need one.” Keith rolled his eyes, kissing the back of Shiro’s hand before he let go and reached for his helmet hanging off the handle bars. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later.

It was so damn hot. 

Shiro knew this, because Lance had complained about it every five minutes for the past hour. Lance was laid back on the half-dead grass of his backyard, his feet in the paddling pool that he had kicked his little sister out of some time ago. Hunk had dragged one of the chairs down off the back porch, sitting near Lance with his leg stretched out. Pidge was lounging on a blow up pool toy set on the grass, a beer bottle dangling from between her fingers. She looked like she was dying from the heat, her cheeks flushed and her roots damp. She had always fared the worst in the summer, a season that didn’t agree with her pale skin and allergies. Hunk and Lance just turned darker shades of brown. 

Shiro was sitting among them all, tapping his finger against the mouth of the beer bottle he’d been nursing for a while now, not interested in getting drunk since he had to drive. 

“I can’t believe summer is almost over.” Lance lamented to no one in particular, reaching a hand out to curl it around Hunk’s ankle. Pidge had won her bet on them- throughout their surgeries, physical therapy and recovery, the two of them had realized that they had something more than friendship. The first time they had shown up to meet their friends holding hands, Lance had been so red that they feared he would pass out. Pidge had simply nudged Shiro and told him to tell Keith that he owed her twenty bucks. Not much had changed in their behaviour, except for brief kisses here and there. 

“You say that like summer ever ends here.” Pidge groused, sipping at her beer. “It’s gonna be just as hot next month. And the month after that, and the month after that.”   
“Wasn’t just talkin’ about the season, nerd.” Lance said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Think about where we were this time last year! On the cusp of saving the world. Now the two of you are big time professors.”

“We’re not professors yet.” Shiro pointed out, picking the label off the neck of the beer bottle. “Part-time tutors while we do our papers on the side.”

“Bah, technicalities.” Lance waved off, letting go of Hunk’s ankle to fold both arms under his head. “You’re both professors, Keith’s out there being an ambassador for peace and unity and all that gay crap. Man.”

“What are you two gonna do?” Pidge quirked an eyebrow, shoving her damp bangs back from her face. Lance shrugged a little, glancing up at Hunk.

“I’m workin’ with dad for a while and Hunk’s gonna study mechanics. After that we wanna get pilot work; go explore space or whatever.” Lance said casually, all around a bitten back smile as he and Hunk spared one another a glance. Alright, so some things had changed between them. They had a lot of silent conversations through eye contact and Lance got all dopey and content when he talked about their future plans. Pidge faked a gagging noise and Lance threw one of his flip-flops at her. She ducked. “I was promised space when I signed up for the Garrison, that one little stint isn’t going to be it.” Shiro snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“I think I’ve had my fill.” He said before he took a swig of his beer, grateful that no one looked at him with sympathy. Consistent therapy had made a difference in him, as well as his preserving mindset. The only thing really pulling at him now was the absence of Keith. They talked over the phone as often as possible, and Shiro saw him on TV occasionally, which was surreal but Shiro felt some pride swell in his chest at the sight of him, and then a sharp stab of longing.

They seemed to always be in this sort of state. Coming together and getting hooked on each other, only to fall away. It had been like that since the moment they met and the three years that followed before Shiro was deployed. It had been more condensed this time last year, and that was almost worse than the long game they were dealing with now. Either way, Shiro just wanted Keith to come home so they could both put down roots finally.

“Are you lot staying for dinner?” Mrs McClain’s voice snapped Shiro out of his introspect and the group turned to look at her in unison. Mrs McClain was a short woman who had a dry sense of humour and impressively patience for a woman with five children of varying ages. She was standing with one hand on her hip and the other holding the screen door open. Shiro looked back to his friends, scratching at his jaw.

“I think I’ll head home.” He said and got to his feet, the rest of them following. Lance shook the water off his legs and gathered up his empty beer bottles before they stepped up onto the porch. Hunk put the chair back where he found it, and Shiro leaned down to politely peck Mrs McClain’s cheek. “I’ll stay for dinner another night.”

“Okay, dear.” She patted his shoulder fondly, moving out of the doorway and back into the kitchen. The smell of whatever it was she was cooking was almost enough to make Shiro reconsider, but as much as he loved the McClain’s, he wasn’t sure if he could handle their particular brand of chaos at the dinner table tonight. His friends all decided to stay but walked him to his truck parked on the side of the road. He twirled the keyring around his finger through their goodbyes, returning the sturdy claps to his shoulder.

“Catch you later, man. Come have dinner some time soon, or ma will get offended.”

“Maybe tomorrow night.” Shiro offered, before pulling open the car door and dropping into his seat. His friends waved enthusiastically from the curb as he pulled away.

The drive out to the edge of Heiress was one Shiro was familiar with from all sides of the town. Like he’d said he would, Shiro had moved into Keith’s old house on the outskirts of the town and he’d spent most of the summer finishing up the repairs. Lance’s dad was a carpenter so Lance had been happy to practice what he knew fixing up the sagging porch and replacing the floorboard that Keith had ripped up months and months ago. He hadn’t asked any questions about the blood and fingernails caught in the splintered wood, but he had given Shiro a look. Gardening wasn’t any of their expertise but Shiro had still done pretty well in getting the lawn to grow out again; even the pot plants on the porch had flowers and cacti growing in them, one might say they were  _ thriving _ . The last job was the driveway, the cement still full of cracks that he toed at as he closed the car door and locked it.

He heard a long, high wolf whistle from the porch and immediately whipped his head up, staring over the roof of his truck.

Leaning one shoulder against the support column of the porch, a hand in his flannel pocket and the other limp at his side, a cigarette between his fingers, was Keith. His hair was swept up in a ponytail and he had his usual combination on; combat boots, dark wash jeans, a flannel a size too big. He was grinning over at Shiro, even around his cigarette when he brought it up for a long drag. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” He called as Shiro rounded the truck and started trekking over the lawn, taking the porch steps two at a time. Keith’s grin just got bigger as Shiro ducked to wrap his arm around Keith’s thighs and haul him up off his feet. He threw his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, flicking his cigarette out onto the lawn so he didn’t have to worry about burning him, before he kissed Shiro hard. Shiro twirled them so he could sit Keith down on the railing, resting his hand on the side of his neck.

“You’re here.” He smiled, looking over Keith’s face over and over like he needed to make sure. His thumb stroked along Keith’s jaw slowly. His hair had gotten long- like he hadn’t cut it in all the time he’d been away. His bangs feel messily to one side.

“I’m here.” Keith laughed, turning his head to kiss Shiro’s hand, down to his wrist and then he went back to his lips. Shiro kissed him back, indulging in languid, tender kisses he’d been thinking about for months. Keith curled his fingers into the shoulders of Shiro’s t-shirt, letting Shiro take the lead.

“So you looked inside?” Shiro eventually murmured against his lips, pulling away with a great deal of reluctance. He dropped his hand onto Keith’s thigh, drumming his fingers against the side seam of his jeans.

“Yeah, I did.” Keith nodded and he dug his packet of cigarette from his flannel pocket, lighting one and twisting his mouth to the side to exhale the smoke. “I really do like it. It’s cozy. Hasn’t been that way in a long time.”

“The gang helped me out. Lance especially. Hunk is still having trouble with his leg so he got to boss him around mostly.”

“I bet Lance loved that.” Keith snorted, reaching behind him to ash his cigarette. “Or, maybe he really did. Who knows about their sex life.” Shiro made a face at that, determined not to think about it. He liked his business staying between the person he was sleeping with, and he didn’t much want to hear about other’s. Keith laughed.

“So…” Shiro dropped his gaze to his own hand, watching his knuckles shift under his skin. “Are you back for good now?”

Keith ran his hand over Shiro’s freshly shaved undercut, lacing his fingers together against the nape of his neck. “More or less, yeah. If I do go away again, it’ll only be for a month, tops. Not a year.” He ducked into Shiro’s line of vision, smiling faintly. “And, you could always come with me every now and again. During breaks.”

“... I could do that.” Shiro smiled back, catching him in a quick kiss before straightening up again. “For now, though, I know a few people who are going to be really happy to see you.” Keith blinked a couple times, then groaned in realization, tipping himself back over the railing until Shiro wrapped an arm around him, stopping him from pitching backward entirely.

“We can see them tomorrow, I want to be here for now.” Keith pouted, rolling his head backward. Shiro rolled his eyes, pulling Keith toward him and kissing his chin. “I saw that nice new bed of ours.” Shiro grinned, humming with his lips against his jaw.

“We’ll spend a few hours with them, and then come back here.” Shiro bargained, and Keith looked like he was considering it. “I was just there. Mrs McClain was making dinner. I don’t think they’d mind if we crashed the party.” That got Keith to perk up a little more, rolling his head forward again, pressing their foreheads together.

“I have missed Mrs McClain’s cooking.” Keith glanced at Shiro’s lips for a second, then back to his eyes. “A few hours. Then we come back here and you show me how much you missed me. Deal?”

“Deal.” Shiro snagged Keith’s cigarette, taking a quick drag and leaving it between his lips as he tugged him down off the railing and nudged him towards the steps. Keith only dragged his heels a little, and a quick and dirty kiss against the side of the truck snuffled out the very last of his feigned sulking.

Lance was surprised to find Shiro standing on the porch when he tugged open the front door, yelling rapid Spanish back over his shoulder before his eyes fell on him. He opened his mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut again when he realized who was standing slightly to Shiro’s left. Lance gaped for a second, and then he yelled over his shoulder for Hunk and Pidge before shoving past Shiro to throw his arms around Keith, squeezing him hard and clapping him on the back while Keith did the same. Lance pushed him back a little, squinting at and scrutinizing him, tugging at a lock of his long hair, before he nodded, happy with his assessment. “Yeah. This is my lame ass best friend alright.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Keith said with absolutely no heat to his tone. He pulled Lance back to him for another hug, and then Pidge was shouldering her way in between them and Keith swept her right up off her feet, twirling her and all before setting her back down. They grinned at each other, and then Hunk squeezed them all together into one hug and Keith laughed and squirmed, whinging about the heat. Mrs McClain came out to see to all the fuss, smiling brightly at the sight of Keith once he had pushed out from between his friends, and she caught his face and kissed his forehead.

“Come in, come in! All of you, come on, before dinner gets cold!” She insisted, her arm around Keith to lead him through the house like he didn’t know it like the back of his hand. She sat Keith at the head of the table, everyone reshuffling themselves until there was room for the two newcomers. Mrs McClain set heaped plates down for Keith and Shiro, who knocked their knees together gently under the table. Keith looked over at him, offering Shiro a smile that twisted to the side.

The food was good, as it always was, and Keith cleaned his plate which was an impressive feat. To his great relief, they didn’t talk exclusively about his time away from Heiress- he was pretty wiped out after a year of being surrounded by politics. He wanted to talk about lighter things. So Lance told plenty of animated stories that had his gaggle of siblings howling with laughter and his poor mother crossing herself and shaking her head at his father who was certainly not discouraging his son, clearing his throat around his chuckles. Keith rested his hand over Shiro’s under the table, tracing out his knuckles one by one. Keith and Shiro declined dessert, insisting they couldn’t eat another bite, but they did accept a beer when Lance got up to grab one for himself.

They drank out on the back porch, Keith leaning against the railing as he lit a cigarette and squinting out against the sun as it set, turning the sky orange and pink. Shiro was beside him, his back against the railing as he took slow pulls of his beer. Keith nudged him with his shoulder gently, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Shiro tilted his head at him, tapping his cheek with his knuckle gently.

“This was a good idea.” Keith admitted, straightening up to rest his hands on the railing. Shiro bent to put his bottle down, turning towards him. “I really needed this. Thank you.”

“We all needed it.” Shiro shrugged, gathering Keith to him and kissing the top of his head. Keith sighed softly, resting his cheek against Shiro’s chest and unabashedly snuggling into him. He let his cigarette burn down to ash. He closed his eyes. Shiro pressed another kiss to his crown.

There were still a lot of questions to answer, things to tell each other and plans to make together, but for now, standing on Lance’s back porch tasting of nicotine and beer, holding each other close while the dry heat of their little town started to relent and the sounds of the chaotic McClain clan grew louder, for now while things felt like they always had, straightforward and safe and one foot in front of the other- for now, this was enough.

This was everything.  

“Welcome home.”

-fin.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are, at the end!  
> Thank you to everyone who has read along with the updates, and thank you to those of you have found this at a later date and have just now finished it. I hope it was worth your time! It was certainly worth mine.  
> xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I'm sorry if there are any typos and such. I did my best.  
> Please comment, kudos, tell me what you think!
> 
> Til next time :*


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